Quotes About Despair

Maybe the bride-bed brings despair, For each an imagined image brings And finds a real image there...

Nothing is as bad as a marriage that's a hopeless failure.

Inaction will cause a man to sink into the slough of despond and vanish without a trace.

I am loved by thousands, but I feel like the loneliest man in the world.

Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools.

It's not the large things that send a man to the madhouse... no, it's the continuing series of small tragedies... not the death of his love but the shoelace that snaps with no time left.

Knowledge is the best eraser in the world for disharmony, distrust, despair, and the endless physical deficiencies of man.

It's in the darkness of men's eyes that they get lost.

So long as we have failed to eliminate any of the causes of human despair, we do not have the right to try to eliminate those means by which man tries to cleanse himself of despair.

Tell us, pray, what devil This melancholy is, which can transform Men into monsters.

Staring at the world through the bottom of a glass, all I see is a man who's fading fast.

No man was ever more than about nine meals away from crime or suicide.

Her lips were red, her looks were free, Her locks were yellow as gold: Her skin was white as leprosy, The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she, Who thicks man's blood with cold.

The depressed man lives in a depressed world.

And I am still alive-what though, my damnation is eternal. A man who deliberately mutilates himself is truly damned, is he not? I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am.

There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge.

When a man is in love very little is enough to throw him into despair and as little to enhance his joy to the utmost.

Men die in despair, while spirits die in ecstasy.

But when I tried to meet her eye now, she pointedly looked away, and fixed her red and swollen eyes on the big stained-glass window above the slate. Since (a) it was dark outside and (b) the window depicted Saunt Grod and his research assistants being beaten with rubber hoses in the dungeons of some Praxic Age spy bureau and (c) Tulia had already spent something like a quarter of her life in this room, I reckoned that inspecting the window wasn't really the point.

Jack was finally going mad, and it was a small comfort to know that he'd picked the right city for it.

The entire country of Finland (to hear Otto tell it) has been plunged into an endless night of existential despair and suicidal depression. The usual antidotes have been exhausted: self-flagellation with steeped birch twigs, mordant humor, week-long drinking bouts. The only thing to save Finland now is coffee.

This might sound like a foolish thing to have done, but a woman who has no family and few friends is forever skirting the edges of a profound despair, which derives from the fear that she could vanish from the world and leave no trace she had ever existed; that the things she has done shall be of no account and the perceptions she has formed [as of Dr. von Pfung for example] shall be swallowed up like a cry in a dark woods.

Depression starts slow.

I feel dead, wasted, awful, broken and useless. It's not the kind of feeling you forget.