Quotes About Despair

A discordant mind, black with confusion and despair, would finish me off as thoroughly as the cold.

When you are not at hand to kiss away my fears I cannot choose but be wretched.

Artforum hasn't arrived. A state of deep melancholy has taken hold of me. I see the world through a gray veil, not even the best of jokes can exact a smile from me. I could die right now and I wouldn't notice the difference. Or maybe I would.

Ennui has made more gamblers than avarice, more drunkards than thirst, and perhaps as many suicides as despair.

Seems like people always want to think they're doomed. It brings them some kind of black comfort, I guess. Nate

I hope no one who reads this book has been quite as miserable as Susan and Lucy were that night; but if you have been - if you've been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you - you will know that there comes in the end a sort of quietness. You feel as if nothing is ever going to happen again.

If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair.

Mortal lovers must not try to remain at the first step. For lasting passion is the dream of a harlot, and from it we wake in despair.

Solitude is its own kind of madness. Like hope itself.

Consider, if you will, the morning boner. What a metaphor of hope and renewal! How can anyone give way to despair when one's groin greets each day with such a gala spectacle of physical optimism?

Sullivan sat with his head down and his arms hanging between his legs, as if he'd received a slip of paper in a game of charades that said Dejected.

Monica had never been blessed with a road map. Her own parents had not provided one, certainly not for a situation like this. She always envied those who seemed to have a map, a plan, a destination, something inside that provided a framework. In times of confusion and despair, she had little to fall back on and no one to call on for advice or support. Certainly not her mother. And who knew where her father was? It

a weeping, unhealable wound

THE WINDOWS Within these dark chambers, where I live through oppressive days, I pace up and down, trying to find the windows.-When a window opens, it will be a consolation. But the windows are not to be found, or I am unable to find them. And perhaps it's better that I don't. Perhaps the light will be a new tyranny. Who knows what novel things it will reveal.

Feito febre, baixava às vezes nele aquela sensação de que nada daria jamais certo, que todos os esforços seriam para sempre inúteis, e coisa nenhuma de alguma forma se modificaria.

For the rest of that month, on dusty afternoons, when the sun looked like a giant yolk in the cloudless sky, no one managed to get any work done at the office. Nearly all of them had the distinct feeling they would live unhappily ever after. And they did.

Quase todos ali dentro tinham a nítida sensação de que seriam infelizes pra sempre. E foram.

As the MIT philosopher Kieran Setiya expands in his modern interpretation of the Ethics, if your life consists only of actions whose "worth depends on the existence of problems, difficulties, needs, which these activities aim to solve," you're vulnerable to the existential despair that blooms in response to the inevitable question, Is this all there is to life?

But it was this very politeness that finally first began to grate upon my nerves, and hen to cause despair to rise up within my throat and threaten to choke me. For, no matter how smooth and correct the words issuing from the courtiers' mouths were, they couldn't quite hide the scorn or laughter in their eyes. And so, on the night of my sixteenth birthday, I saw myself as they saw me for the very first time.

Not all love is joyful, particularly if it seems hopeless.

The kind of cold that comes when the heart gives up on itself and abandons hope, a cold no fire on on earth could ever warm.

But, no matter what I did, how many times hot water was added, how many minutes I stood before the fire to dry, I could not get warm. For my father's words and my own fears were like two cold fists clenched around my heart. The catastrophes had returned, and this time they came from within, not from without. Bad as what we had already endured had been, I knew that the worst was yet to come.

It fascinated him that the human will to survive was so strong that despite the complete absence of any quality of life, one still chose to go on, day after day, year after year. Was there any cause for rejoicing left in a life like Anders Nilsson's? Did he ever experience the emotions that made life worth living: joy, anticipation, happiness, elation? Or was everything merely a stop on the way to the next shot of alcohol?

She had held the dirt at bay, but she couldn't clean away the indifference that clung to the walls and ceiling.