Quotes About Despair

And I have to tell you, as tough as farming is, the idea of farming when you're losing money year after year... that's not life even, that's like death. That's eternal damnation.

It's monstrous. It is too much to take. Why do we even do this—love anybody? Our dumb animal hearts.

The world will still be a place where people do terrible things. But here's the thing about despair. We fall into despair when the terrible gangs up on us and we forget the world can also be wonderful. We just see terrible everywhere we look. So what you do for your friend is you bring up the wonderful, so both are side by side. The world is terrible and wonderful at the same time. One doesn't negate the other, but the wonderful keeps us in the game. It keeps us moving forward.

Her body felt like a giant bag of lack. Lack of motivation. Lack of strength. Lack of rigidity. Lack of caring.

It made me feel unsalvageable, as though I had been born unlikable and had no hope for being any other way now.

Left with no choice, Janice curled up on the bed where she drowned in her sadness. ~ Janice woke in the darkness to a woman's screams. Moonlight from

We are all dead. All equal. Broken and aimless and believing we are alive. This is Russia and it is 1952. What else would you call hell?

The storm ate up September's cry of despair, delighted at its mischief, as all storms are.

Omaha is no place for anybody.

Sophia fully and truly thinks she will die. The sound of it is a knife, if a knife could kiss, and the kiss could turn the color of morning... ... Yet it contains a perfection that is twin to pain.

What was the point of a world without debilitating bitterness and despair? How could you even tell you were alive? How could you possibly write a decent pop song if you weren't a sad sack of tissues or at least fundamentally angry at the world most of the time?

Breakfast brought an oppressive gloom down upon my spirit. Soft-boiled eggs oozed a golden ichor of loneliness onto my spoon; the buttered rolls spoke only of the further torment of my being. Failure swirled in the milky depths of my tea and the bacon I devoured was the bacon of grief.

And really, really, when you put a fairy tale together with grime and despair and industrial angst you get the Gothic, and that's where we live, Percy.

I always thought my physical identity was the problem, but writing made me realize that even without myself present, I still couldn't rise above myself, which pitched me into a kind of despair.

Lloyd felt as though he had just lost the woman he loved more than everyone else on earth

Every happiness is a bright ray between shadows, every gaiety bracketed by grief. There is no birth that does not recall a death, no victory but brings to mind a defeat.

Unhappy people do the oddest, most terrible things, just trying to keep despair at bay. All you have to do is accept them...go around them...take evasive action.

Don't struggle too hard to understand people, Sym. They're hideously complicated. Unhappy people do the oddest, most terrible things, just trying to keep despair at bay. All you have to do is accept them...go around them...take evasive action.

No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch of grief,More pangs will, schooled at forepangs, wilder wring.

Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of manIn me or, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.

I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.What hours, O what black hours we have spentThis night.

NOT, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee; Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can; Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.

No, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee

Into the snows she sweeps, Hurling the haven behind, The Deutschland, on Sunday; and so the sky keeps, For the infinite air is unkind, And the sea flint-flake, black-backed in the regular blow, Sitting Eastnortheast, in cursed quarter, the wind; Wiry and white-fiery and whirlwind-swivelled snow Spins to the wido-making unchilding unfathering deeps. (from "The Wreck of the Deutschland, Part the Second")