Quotes About Despair

O eyes, no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears;O life, no life, but lively form of death;O world, no world, but mass of public wrongs,Confused and filled with murder and misdeeds.

Canst paint a doleful cry?

We are each either among the demoralized showing the way to a future of eternal nightmare, or we are losers celebrating our moment in hell.

Life is hell, and the sweet still night of absolute death is the annihilation of hell.

I cannot wait to be dead. I cannot wait.

Generally speaking: Expect nothing but nightmarish obscenities to be born when human heads come together in intercourse.

Their only respite is in the balm of bleakness. Disdainful of the solicitations of hope, they look for sanctuary in desolate places—a scattering of ruins in a barren locale or a rubble of words in a book where someone whispers in a dry voice, "I, too, am here." However,

The lessons in measurement of cloacal forces. Time as a flow of sewage. The excrement of space, scatology of creation. The voiding of the self. The whole filthy integration of things and the nocturnal product . . . drowning in the pools of night.

One day it would be over for all, that terrible dream of everlasting changes that held us to a place that never should have been if its greatest intention led only to wallowing in the muck of eternity.

I had fled that place in hopes of finding another that had been founded upon different principles and operated under a different order. But there was no such place, or none that I could find. It seemed the only course of action left to me was to make an end of it.

In fact, they use everyone and have always used everyone, because they are from the old time, the time before all the worlds awoke from a long and mindless night. And these dreams, these things that are called dreams, are still working to throw us back into that great mad darkness, to exhaust each one one of us in our lonely sleep and to use up everyone until death.

this heartbreaking sadness I suffer every minute of the day (and night), this killing sadness that feels as if it will never leave me no matter where I go or what I do or whom I may ever know.

Fear, when blended with failure, distills into a deadly brew.

There is nothing more futile than to consciously look for something to save you.

But what could I say to her? That I'm drawn to those old buildings and junk because (voice beginning to seethe) . . . because they take me into a world (the seething builds) . . . a world that is the exact opposite of the one (voice seething to a pitch) . . . the one I'm doomed by my own weakness and fear to live in (uncontrollable, meta-maniacal seething) . . . to live in during my weeks, my months, my years and years of work . . . work . . . work?

What a relief, what an unburdening to have closed the book on humankind.

The universe is not just meaningless, but malignantly useless.

To think that another person shared my love for the icy bleakness of things .

And my mind - another disease, the disease of a disease. Everywhere my mind sees the disease of other minds and other bodies, these other organisms that are only other diseases, an absolute nightmare of the organism.

Of course, the situation is hopeless for those who wish an alteration in affairs that by their very nature are fixed and define the world in which we are all chained.

But some people seem born to bellyache that being alive is not all right. Should they vent this posture in philosophical or literary works, they may do so without anxiety that their efforts will have an excess of admirers.

Existence equals nightmare." Unless life is a dream, nothing makes sense. For as a reality, it is a rank failure.

Scaccerò ogni dolcezza dal mio cuore e assorbirò l'orrore; ucciderò l'amore, i pensieri di donna, lasciandone i cadaveri a decomporsi nella mia mente, sperando che i loro vermi mordano; senza l'aspetto di un uomo saprò comunque generare molto dall'odio: sarò padre di un mondo di fantasmi e avrò la tomba e la carcassa.

This is my journal. I can be candid here. Candidly, I could not be more miserable.