Quotes About Despair

Ac? çekmek için bile yetersizdim.

She wanted, out of a kind of mysterious vindictiveness born of despair, to torture us with her torture, to arraign us, the hale and hearty, in the place of God.

Yanl?z kalmaya ve kendi ateÅŸimle kavrulmaya daha fazla dayanamayacakt?m. Fakat bütün bak??lar beni yalay?p geçiyordu, kimse varl???m? hissetmek istemiyordu.

ever since he discovered that all his millions could not bring him back his wife, he has learned to despise money.

no se suicida quien no ve esperanza, sino quien la ve y no tiene ni el remedio ni la paciencia para esperar su venida.

Art?k her ÅŸeyi biliyorlar. Kendilerine yalan söylendiÄŸini, bütün insanlar?n kötü olduÄŸunu ve alçakl?k edebileceÄŸini biliyorlar. Ana babalar?n? da sevmiyorlar art?k, onlara inanm?yorlar.

At that moment I was fully aware for the first time how far advanced the process of paralysis already was in me—it was as if I were moving through flowing, bright water without being halted or taking root anywhere, and I knew very well that this chill was something dead and corpse-like, not yet surrounded by the foul breath of decomposition but already numbed beyond recovery, a grimly cold lack of emotion.

it is precisely from the lowest abysses of despair that the panic cries and groans of those hungry for love ring out most gruesomely.

Derken içeriye karanl?k çöktü, t?pk? yüreÄŸime çöken karanl?k gibi.

arkadaÅŸlar?na yazd??? bir mektupta, Sizler yeni bir gün doÄŸumunu bekleyebilirsiniz, benim buna gücüm kalmad?...

wie ein Taucher sogar, der schon ahnt, dass das Seil nach der Außenwelt abgerissen ist und er nie zurückgeholt werden wird aus der lautlosen Tiefe.

All I know is that I shall be alone again. There is nothing more terrible than to be alone among human beings.

A lame creature, a cripple like myself, has no right to love. How should I, broken, shattered being that I am, be anything but a burden to you, when to myself I am an object of disgust, of loathing. A creature such as I, I know, has no right to love, and certainly no right to be loved. It is for such a creature to creep away into a corner and die and cease to make other people's lives a burden with her presence.

Yeryüzünde hiçbir ÅŸey insana hiçlik kadar bask? yapamaz

Her blank eyes burrowed through the fetid air between herself and her visitor. They were without content; hollow pools of meaninglessness. They were not eyes, but voids sunk between two jutting pent-houses of bone and two bloodless hummocks of cheek. They suspended two raw rods of grief before their own immobility, like frozen fountains in a bright wintry air; and on these rods the fluttering rags of a futile grief were hung.

It is ever thus. We find the words to speak when all hope of converse is past.

Is it too absurd? It must, it cannot be other, than the fevered conjectures of my brain, quite overpowered by the sudden loss. And so I will put down my pen, and make an end to activity, in the hope that silence may be as balm, and isolation relieve despair.

No one anticipated that this crazy push for speed—speed of the technology itself, and speed to discovery—would also be the root of personal disasters, of uncontrollable compulsivity, of endless pursuit culminating in an ultimate depression and despair.

The challenge throughout has been to tell what I view as the truth about racism without causing disabling despair.

Men will clutch at illusions when they have nothing else to hold to.

After all, a homeless man has reason to cry, everything in the world is pointed against him.

What's the point of truth or beauty or knowledge when anthrax bombs are popping all around you?

But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.

the truth is, I am heartily sick of this life & of the nineteenth century in general. (I am convinced that every thing is going wrong.)