Quotes About Despair

Helena (börjar gråta): Ser du, nu gråter jag. Det glada, fina livet är slut, det hemska, skitige livet kastar sig över oss. Så är det.

You said, "Suffer through privation, But don't lose your honor." See—my memory is certain. You're pleased I've learned that saying? Must I shoulder now a burden Of despair this springtime? Send your blessing down, my darlings.

Etienne, didn't worry enough, Jules thought in despair. Ever since childhood it had been Jules who was the serious one, the one who had to accept the responsibility while Etienne ambled along through life with endearing blitheness. "You arranged for the men to be waiting at the church?" "Of course." "And you told them nothing?" "Only that they would be paid well for the work. And I parked the motorboat

Loneliness is a kind of prison. [Vincent Van Gogh]

His bright hope had become a black cloud of despair.

ODESSA IS A NASTY PLACE. Everybody knows that.

Life is rubbish," he muttered. "The world's a bordello. People are swindlers…

I despair of ever writing excellent poetry.

Best would have been if I'd died, I guess, but there wasn't much chance of that, not right off anyway... Next best was to make me want to die, but I had enough spite in me to want to live, usually.

Melancholy and sadness are the start of doubt... doubt is the beginning of despair despair is the cruel beginning of the differing degrees of wickedness.

I was suddenly stricken with a feeling of black despair, hopelessly muddled by what was right and wrong. Nothing seemed clear cut; we did evil in the name of good, and good was done in the name of evil. [Chapter 27, page 306]

Some foolish people must have a tragedy, for they cannot believe in happy endings

It is better to pursue a hopeless hope than to give in to black despair.

The naked man had lost hope now; he would never be able to return to the earth's surface;he would never leave the bottom of this shaft, and he would go mad there drinking blood and eating human flesh, without ever being able to die. Up there, against the sky, there were good angels with ropes, and bad angels with grenades and rifles, and a big old man with a white beard who waved his arms but could not save him.

and she comes to this café every evening perhaps deliberately to make him suffer, or perhaps hoping that the habit of suffering will become for him a habit like any other, that it will take on the flavor of the nothingness that has coated her mouth and her life for years. "The

In days of doubt, in days of sad brooding on my country's fate, thou alone art my rod and my staff—mighty, true, free Russian speech! But for thee, how not to fall into despair, seeing all that happens at home? Yet who can think that such a tongue is not given to a great people?

The Dearborn was typical of the schools in Boston's predominantly black neighborhoods, and the more Rachel saw of them, the more she despaired of her children's ever getting a decent education there. They were hardly schools at all, she thought, more like warehouses where the kids were stored for a few years, sorted, labeled, and packed for shipment to the menial, low-paying jobs at which they would be doomed to labor the rest of their lives.

I wish...I wish I were dead..." And what use would that be to anyone?

Depression is the most unpleasant thing I have ever experienced. . . . It is that absence of being able to envisage that you will ever be cheerful again. The absence of hope. That very deadened feeling, which is so very different from feeling sad. Sad hurts but it's a healthy feeling. It is a necessary thing to feel. Depression is very different.

Oft hope is born when all is forlorn.

In sorrow we must go, but not in despair. Behold! we are not bound for ever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory.

It is perfectly obvious that the whole world is going to hell. The only possible chance that it might not is that we do not attempt to prevent it from doing so.

How could you believe or disbelieve anything anymore? Four maybe five million men killed and none of them wanting to die while hundreds maybe thousands were left crazy or blind or crippled and couldn't die no matter how hard they tried.

That night I was alone in my room with the lights off. The radio was on and I was staring at the ceiling. I couldn't sleep much at night anymore because that was when the hollow, empty feeling was the worst. At night there's nothing to hold your mind to the earth, and you spend the entire time falling into an abyss. The only cure is the rising of the sun.