Quotes About Despair

She watched him with her yellow eyes and in them was no despair but only that same reckonless deep of loneliness that cored the world to its heart.

She asked the girl what she wanted to be when she grew up and she said dead.

The nights now only slightly less black. By day the banished sun circles the earth like a grieving mother with a lamp.

My guess is that you can only be so happy. While there seems to be no floor to sorrow. Each deeper misery being a state heretofore unimagined. Each suggestive of worse to come.

I think if you were Satan and you were settin around tryin to think up somethin that would just bring the human race to its knees what you would probably come up with is narcotics

Meanin I guess that he seen somebody in a place low enough to where he ought to be ready to take a pretty big step.

Chigurh shot him in the face. Everything that Wells had ever known or thought or loved drained slowly down the wall behind him. His mother's face, his First Communion, women he had known. The faces of men as they died on their knees before him. The body of a child dead in a roadside ravine in another country.

The whole affair calls up images you'd rather not entertain. Her great hummocky fundament wobbling away down the street like a sack of cats headed for the river.

He in the limbo of the Christless righteous, I in a terrestrial hell.

She raised her eyes and looked at him. He'd never seen despair before. He thought he had, but he had not.

What if a whole goddamned building was to just up and sink? What about two or three buildings? What about a whole block? Harrogate was waving his bottle about. Goddamn, he said. What if the whole fuckin city was to cave in? That's the spirit, said Suttree.

Nor does God whisper through the trees. His voice is not to be mistaken. When men hear it they fall to their knees and their souls are riven and they cry out to Him and there is no fear in them but only that wildness of heart that springs from such longing and they cry out to stay his presence for they know at once that while godless men may live well enough in their exile those to whom He has spoken can contemplate no life without Him but only darkness and despair. Trees

keeping to the firmer sand below the tidewrack. They stood, their clothes flapping softly. Glass floats covered with a gray crust. The bones of seabirds. At the tide line a woven mat of weeds and the ribs of fishes in their millions stretching along the shore as far as eye could see like an isocline of death. One vast salt sepulchre. Senseless. Senseless.

Perhaps they had come to warn him. But of what? That he couldn't enkindle in the boy's heart what was ashes in his own?

There seems to be a ceiling to well-being. My guess is that you can only be so happy. While there seems to be no floor to sorrow. Each deeper misery being a state heretofore unimagined. Each suggestive of worse to come.

My life is ghastly

like some scurrilous king stripped of his vestiture and driven together with his fool into the wilderness to die.

He visto tantas maldades que no sé cómo Dios no apaga el sol y acaba con todos nosotros

He is sinking into a darkness he cannot even comprehend. Darkness and immobilizing cold.

He talked to her a long time and as the boy tending the wolf could not understand what it was he said he said what was in his heart. He made her promises that he swore to keep in the making. That he would take her to the mountains where she would find others of her kind. She watched him with her yellow eyes and in them was no despair but only that same reckonless deep of loneliness that cored the world to its heart.

There are no absolutes in human misery, and things can always get worse.

And rage is only for what you believe can be fixed. All the rest is grief

He found Reese asleep in a wrecked car behind the cabins. Suttree shook him gently awake into a world he wanted no part of. The old man fought it.

He lay down in his blankets. It was growing dark, long late mid-summer twilight in the woods. He wanted to go down to the river to bathe but he felt too bad. He turned over and looked at the small plot of ground in the crook of his arm. My life is ghastly, he told the grass.