Quotes About Despair

O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell!

Despair and die. The ghosts

Bad is the world, and all will come to naught when such ill-dealing must be seen in thought.

You think I'll weep? No, I'll not weep. Storm and tempest. I have full cause of weeping, but this heart Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, Or e're I'll weep.—O Fool, I shall go mad.

O, woe is me, To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!

Diseases desperate grown, By desperate appliance are relieved, Or not at all.

And my poor fool is hanged. No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life And thou no breath at all? O thou'lt come no more, Never, never, never, never, never.

O shut the door! and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help!

Now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant; And my ending is despair, Unless I be relieved by prayer

cayó en la melancolía, luego en la inapetencia, de allí en el insomnio, de éste en el abatimiento, más tarde en el delirio y, por esta fatal pendiente, en la locura, que ahora le hace desvariar y que todos lamentamos.

O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do: They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to dispair.

Hopeless and helpless doth AEgeon wend, But to procrastinate his lifeless end.

It is not nor it cannot come to good.

There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.

Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair:

What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?

What I can do can do no hurt to try, Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy. He that of greatest works is finisher Oft does them by the weakest minister: So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown, When judges have been babes; great floods have flown From simple sources, and great seas have dried When miracles have by the greatest been denied. Oft expectation fails and most oft there Where most it promises, and oft it hits Where hope is coldest and despair most fits.

Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that And manage it against despairing thoughts.

Tell me, sweet lord, what is 't that takes from thee Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep? Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth And start so often when thou sit'st alone? Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks And given my treasures and my rights of thee To thick-eyed musing and curst melancholy?

How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world.

Now my soul's palace is become a prison; Ah, would she break from hence, that this my body Might in the ground be closed up in rest! For never henceforth shall I joy again, Never, O never, shall I see more joy!

think our country sinks beneath the yoke. It weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash Is added to her wounds. I

No, coz, I rather weep. - Benvolio

O, she was foul!— I scarce did know you, uncle; there lies your niece, Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd: I know this act shows horrible and grim. GRATIANO Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's dead: Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief Shore his old thread in twain: did he live now, This sight would make him do a desperate turn, Yea, curse his better angel from his side, And fall to reprobance. OTHELLO 'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows That she with Cassio hath