Quotes About Despair

no concept of danger, reality, flow or compassion. you can feel the despair escaping from their machines, their lives as hopeless and as numbed as yours.

I find that when the pain gets bad enough there are only three things to do — get drunk, kill yourself or laugh. I usually get drunk and laugh.

And if you decide to kill somebody, make it anybody and not somebody: some men are made of more special, precious parts: do not kill if you will a president or a King or a man behind a desk - these have heavenly longitudes enlightened attitudes. If you decide, take us who stand and smoke and glower; we are rusty with sadness and feverish with climbing broken ladders

suicide fails as you get older: there's less and less to kill.

Parker had a young white boy with him-one of the neurotic tribe of the lost- and the kid's eyes were filled with wet layers of tears. One big tear in each eye. They did not drop out. It was fascinating. I had seen women sit and look at me with those same eyes before they got mad and started screaming about what a son of a bitch I was.

Learn that there will be hours, days and months ahead of feeling absolutely terrible and nothing can change that; neither new girlfriends, health professionals, changes of diet, dope, humility, or God.

I didn't know if I was unhappy. I felt too miserable to be unhappy.

we are worn-down, hope stamped out. We reach for coffee cups like the robots about to replace us.

Nuk ishte dita ime. As java ime. As muaji im. As viti im. As jeta ime, dreqi e marrtë..!

You can feel your life being pounded to a pulp by the useless waste of time.

I know it's impossible to explain this to you. I carry this terrible aching hell in my heart.

No life anywhere, no life in this town or this place or in this weary existence

I am not like other people other people are like other people. they are all alike: joining grouping huddling they are both gleeful and content and i am burning in hell. my heart is a thousand years old i am not like other people.

We all sat there and looked at each other and didn't look at each other. We chewed gum, drank coffee, went into restrooms, urinated, slept. We sat on the hard benches and smoked cigarettes we didn't want to smoke. We looked at each other and didn't like what we saw.

There was so much sadness in everything, even when things worked. Then

I'd listen to the radio and look at the walls and get drunk enough to almost forget her but then she would return once again.

There are many things that bother me. I know that I have never passed a man on the street that I liked—most of them giving off a kind of ether of disgust and stumbling and clay-eating, snot-eating grievance. I don't like the human race at all. this is my confessional, father, pass the wine.

and gamblers are dry and empty souls, their hearts have been sucked dry, there's no music in their walk, they are colorless and condemned.

she died of alcoholism wrapped in a blanket on a deck chair on an ocean steamer. all her books of terrified loneliness all her books about the cruelty of loveless love were all that was left of her as the strolling vacationer discovered her body notified the captain and she was quickly dispatched to somewhere else on the ship as everything continued just as she had written it.

The good times were over. Nobody gave a shit and nobody had any money and if they had any, they kept it.

she was consumed by 2 simple things: despair, loneliness; and oh 2 more: youth and beauty

SUICIDE. Like a light going on. In the darkness. That there is an out helps you stay in.

The good parts of our relationship felt like a rat walking around and gnawing at the inside of my stomach.

am not a complete person—I'm a stunted city person. I am more or less a failed drizzling shit with absolutely nothing to offer." "Christ," she said, "don't you think I know that?" She