Quotes About Despair

if his cruelty had the sharp edge of despair, if slights and taunts were all that fell from his tongue now, what did it matter? He had always been awful. Now he was just worse.

I'm so tired," I say out loud. "So tired." I sit there for a long time, watching the rising sun gild the sky, listening to the waves crash as the tide goes out, when a creature flies up to alight on the edge of my window. At first it seems like an owl, but it's got hob eyes. "Tired of what, sweetmeat?" it asks me. I sigh and answer honestly for once. "Of being powerless." The hob studies my face, then flies off into the night.

Some things seem too terrible to seem possible. Soon he may learn the worst thing he can imagine is only the beginning of what they are willing to do to him.

My sister thinks that she's the only one who can take poison, but I am poison,' he whispers, eyes half-closed, talking to himself. 'Poison in my blood. I poison everything I touch.' That's such a strange thing to hear him say. Everyone adores him. And yet, I recall him running away at thirteen, sure so many things were his fault.

Charlie's sister had spent the last few years bingeing Reddit threads, watching videos, and chatting with other gloamist hopefuls until dawn. But lately things had gotten worse. Posey had started staying up for days at a stretch and not leaving the house for weeks. Despair seemed to be chasing her heels as her shadow refused to quicken. She'd gone so deep down the rabbit hole that Charlie worried it had become an oubliette.

But when you were gone-truly gone beneath the waves-I hated myself as I never have before.

The tan carpet was stiff and black with stripes of dried blood, spattered like a Jackson Pollock canvas. The walls were streaked with it, handprints smearing the dingy beige surfaces. And the bodies. Dozens of bodies. People she'd seen every day since kindergarten, people whom she'd played tag with and cried over and kissed, were lying at odd angles, their bodies pale and cold, their eyes staring like rows of dolls in a shop window.

Hell is oneself, Hell is alone. —T. S. ELIOT

I love you, Liliver. I've loved you from the first hour of our meeting. I love you and despaired. Before I die, I want you to know that

I can see when the light goes out of his eyes, like a torch thrown into the sea.

Just when you think you've sunk as far as it's possible to sink, there's always a lower place. There's always something worse to be scared about.

And if his cruelty had the sharp edge of despair, if slights and taunts were all that fell from his tongue now, what did it matter? He had always been awful. Now he was just worse.

Surely there is nothing more wretched than a man, of all the things which breathe and move upon the earth.

Man dies in despair while the Spirit dies in ecstasy.

Men die in despair, while spirits die in ecstasy.

There is something great and terrible about suicide.

Cruelty and fear shake hands together. An unfulfilled vocation drains the color from a man's entire existence.

If you decide to join up with me, I want it to be because you're making a rational choice, not because you've been pushed by passion or despair.

Young man,' Porbus said, seeing Poussin stare open-mouthed at a picture, 'Don't look at the canvas too long, it will drive you to despair.

Toujours en opposition avec lui-même, trompant ses espérances par ses maux présents, et ses maux par un avenir qui ne lui appartient pas, l'homme imprime à tous ses actes le caractère de l'inconséquence et de la faiblesse. Ici-bas rien n'est complet que le malheur.

En se résignant, le malheureux consomme son malheur.

Those few hours had bleached her; she had lost a woman's last glow of autumn color. Her eyes were red and swollen, nothing of their beauty remained, nothing looked out of them save her bitter and exceeding grief; it was as if a gray cloud covered the place through which the sun had shone.

I'm having a nervous breakdown, she thought with relief. I'm about to lose my mind, and that's just as well, because this cannot possibly be fixed. It is simply not fixable.

Oh, that feeling of hopeless grief and just wanting the pain to stop.