Quotes About Despair

It is often when night looks darkest, it is often before the fever breaks that one senses the gathering momentum for change, when one feels that resurrection of hope in the midst of despair and apathy.

Despair often breeds disease.

To add to our misery and despair, a bloated aristocracy has sent to China - the greatest and oldest despotism in the world - for a cheap working slave.

It is necessary to work, if not from inclination, at least from despair. Everything considered, work is less boring than amusing oneself.

The God that can only love something like this man. And from then on it was all downhill.

Utterly, irrevocably, lost

something was dead in each of us, and what was dead was hope.

He did not wring his hands, as do Those witless men who dare To try to rear the changeling Hope In the cave of black Despair.

We did not dare to breathe a prayer, Or give our anguish scope. Something was dead within each of us, And what was dead was Hope.

But neither milk-white rose nor red May bloom in prison air; The shard, the pebble, and the flint, Are what they give us there: For flowers have been known to heal A common man's despair.

Each narrow cell in which we dwell Is a foul and dark latrine, And the fetid breath of living Death Chokes up each grated screen, And all, but Lust, is turned to dust In Humanity's machine.

Life is a great disappointment.

O we are wearied of this sense of guilt, Wearied of pleasure's paramour despair, Wearied of every temple we have built, Wearied of every unanswered right, unanswered prayer, For man is weak; God sleeps: and heaven is high: One fiery-colored moment: one great love: and lo! we die.

but I, once a lord of language, have no words in which to express my anguish and my shame...

Out of my nature has come wild despair; an abandonment to grief that was piteous even to look at; terrible and impotent rage; bitterness and scorn; anguish that wept aloud; misery that could find no voice; sorrow that was dumb. I have passed through every possible mood of suffering. Better than Wordsworth himself I know what Wordsworth meant when he said—'Suffering is permanent, obscure, and dark And has the nature of infinity.

O we are wearied of this sense of guilt, Wearied of pleasure's paramour despair, Wearied of every temple we have built, Wearied of every right, unanswered prayer, For man is weak; God sleeps: and heaven is high: One fiery-coloured moment: one great love; and lo! we die. Ah!

In the cave of black Despair: He only looked upon the sun, And drank the morning air.

How alone I am in life! How terribly alone!

He loved a lifeless thing and he was utterly and hopelessly wretched.

But you don't belong here! You're dead!I sobbed against his chest. Zo,babe,this is the Otherworld. It's not me who doesn't belong here-it's you. Memory crashed over me, drowning me with despair and darkness and reality as my world shattered,and evrything went black.

That's how Darkness works. It turns love into something bad.

When you have been just told that the girl you love is definitely betrothed to another, you begin to understand how Anarchists must feel when the bomb goes off too soon.

No wonder Freddie experienced the sort of abysmal soul-sadness which afflicts one of Tolstoi's Russian peasants when, after putting in a heavy day's work strangling his father, beating his wife, and dropping the baby into the city reservoir, he turns to the cupboard, only to find the vodka bottle empty.

Vladimir specialized in grey studies of hopeless misery, where nothing happened till page 380, when the muzhik decided to commit suicide.