Quotes About Despair

First thought: How terrible that she cannot kill herself .

Oh darkness, I feel like letting go.

For Lilah, the light made everything worse. It was harder than the dark uglier, and anything it showed her would be true beyond any hope of redemption.

The world is disappearing, piece by piece; the darkness has closed in around me long before the sun sets.

She is the goddess of death, despair, stagnation, abandoned places. They say she is the only god who will protect them now, but they cannot reach her without a maze.

Noirance isn't about not being able to see. It's about not being able to find your way out of the dark. Being lost in a maze. Or being the creature in the heart of the maze who waits for the lost to come to it as they always will.

There was something terribly stark in the way she said it, an acknowledgment of the hopelessness of the vampires' love for the demi-angels, and at the same time a resolute dignity that rejected pity.

One time, two years ago, I took a draught of morphia, meaning to end my life. My mother found me before the life was ended, the doctor drew the poison from my stomach with a syringe, and when I woke, it was to the sound of my own weeping. For I had hoped to open my eyes on Heaven, where my father was; and they had only pulled me back to Hell.

Oh, but this,' I think I say, 'is perfect! This is all I have longed for! What are you gazing at? Do you suppose a girl is sitting here? That girl is lost! She has been drowned! She is lying, fathoms deep. Do you think she has arms and legs, with flesh and cloth upon them? Do you think she has hair? She has only bones, stripped white! She is as white as a page of paper! She is a book, from which the words have peeled and drifted--

I give myself up to darkness; and wish I may never again be required to lift my head to the light.

They made her feel lonelier, suddenly, than she had ever felt before. She went creeping into her room and undressed without lighting a candle, then lay curled in bed in a ferment of misery. What was the use of her being alive? Her heart was some desiccated thing: a prune, a fossil, a piece of clinker. Her mouth might as well be filled with ashes. It was all utterly hopeless and futile . . .

You have come to Millbank, to look on women more wretched than yourself, in the hope that it will make you well again.

That week was a terrible one. I had got my own mind back, the house seemed crueller than ever, and I saw how far I had sunk before in growing used to it.

Her face was thin, her hair was dull. Her dress was worn with use, like a servant's dress. Her eyes were wild, with tears starting in them; but beyond the tears, her gaze was hard. Hard as marble, hard as brass. Hard as a pearl, and the grit that lies inside it.

We glide, softly, in silence, into our dark and separate hells.

What was the use of her being alive? Her heart was some desiccated thing: a prune, a fossil, a piece of clinker. Her mouth might as well be filled with ashes. It was all utterly hopeless and futile...

I said slowly that, yes, I had seen wretched things there. I said I had seen women unable to speak, because the matrons kept them silent. I had seen women harm themselves, for the variety of it. I had seen women driven mad. There was a woman dying there, I said, because she was kept so cold and badly fed. There was another who had put out her own eye—

I did not care. I cared for nothing, now. I had kept up my nerve and my spirit, all that time. I had waited for my chance of escaping and got nowhere.

People do not die from suiside; they die from sadness

Poverty is, in other words, as diverse as the United States itself. What the poor have in common, however, is an increasingly precarious existence in a country seemingly unable—or at least unwilling—to come to grips with their collective despair.

Ego must be so all-pervading that the personality of the organizer is contagious, that it converts the people from despair to defiance, creating a mass ego. CONFLICT

There is a feeling of death hanging over the nation. Today

I feel like crying. There's something so sad about broken concrete.

bonds are formed, death with the dead, those with no hope, the despair written in their eyes selling bit & pieces of shit called food for an extra sheet to put over their shivering bodies