Quotes About Despair

I hate you all. For no particular reason. I guess it's for the sympathy, the pity and understanding, but most of all, for the hope.

Desolate' was the most perfectly beautiful word for how she felt. Sometimes

I don't know why I stay. I don't know why I deserve this. I don't know why you do this, why we do this, why this keeps happening.

Sometimes it felt like Zoe was just waiting out her life now, enduring it, ticking off events and days and months and years, as if she just had to get herself through something unspecified and then things would be better, except she never got through it and it never got better and she would never forgive him. His death was the ultimate 'fuck you'.

Afterward she felt seedy and sexy and disheveled and filled with despair.

if you could float when there was no room, no space anywhere, above, below, when you couldn't take a step without feeling the spongy give of rotting stuff beneath your feet. She

Everything felt too hard,' John-Paul had said. 'Going to sleep forever just seemed like an easier option.

And since Ive lost you, Im lost too.

There was a hole inside her, and it twisted.

It's that moment about two months in, when you think you've finally got a handle on the place. Suddenly it feels within your grasp. It's a delusion – you've only been there eight weeks – and it's followed by the complete despair of ever understanding anything. But at the moment the place feels entirely yours. It's the briefest, purest euphoria.

I spend the night that way, passing through layers of anxiety, humiliation, and despair. Somewhere close to dawn I lose some consciousness. It isn't sleep exactly, but I have to think of it as sleep because it's all I ever get anymore.

It's a sense of despair about writing itself, a sort of throwing up of hands, as if to say I'll put this down on the page but it's not what I really mean because what I really mean cannot be put into words.

It's that moment about two months in, when you think you've finally got a handle on the place. Suddenly it feels within your grasp. It's a delusion—you've only been there eight weeks—and it's followed by the complete despair of ever understanding anything. But at that moment the place feels entirely yours. It's the briefest, purest euphoria.

moment about two months in, when you think you've finally got a handle on the place. Suddenly it feels within your grasp. It's a delusion—you've only been there eight weeks—and it's followed by the complete despair of ever understanding anything. But at that moment the place feels entirely yours. It's the briefest, purest euphoria.

I am wasting my life. I am wasting my life. I am wasting my life. It pounds like a heartbeat.

And all the while I am aware of a larger despair, as if Helen & I are vessels for the despair of all women and many men too. Who are we and where are we going? Why are we, with all our 'progress,' so limited in understanding & sympathy & the ability to give each other real freedom? Why with our emphasis on the individual are we still so blinded by the urge to conform?

We have lost the courage to hope.

Notre planète étant, selon la définition de Stevenson, une île tournoyante chargée de vie rapace, plus ruisselante de sang qu'un navire au lendemain d'une mutinerie, Hanokh Levin sonde les pulsions mortifères, descend dans le sous-sol humain où grouille un monde de lâcheté et de bassesse, tire des choses vues un constat sur le non-sens de nos existences, engluées dans de risibles ambitions. (p. 117)

Sometimes you run away by yourself purely so someone who cares will come to find you. Half the time nobody does. That's the tragedy of life.

While death and darkness girdle me I grope for immortality.

A carpet of despair which lay underneath the levels of fury.

Before I found out for myself, I might have imagined that in the aftermath of personal apocalypse, the little bothers of life would effectively vanish. But it's not true. You still feel chills, you still despair when a package is lost in the mail, and you still feel irked to discover you were shortchanged at Starbucks.

Shep's plight clearly illustrated that there was no point to anything and there was no relationship between virtue and reward and there never had been.

The pain of lost love is as total, as self-obliterating an emotion as the initial ecstasy.