Quotes About Despair

Whoever digs at verse must renounce all idols; he has to break with everything. He cannot have truth for his horizon, or the future as his element, for he has no right to hope. He has, on the contrary, to despair. Whoever delves into verse dies; he encounters his death as an abyss.

I feel myself dead – no; I feel myself, living, infinitely more dead than dead.

Quand tout est dit, ce qui reste à dire est le désastre, ruine de parole, défaillance par l'écriture, rumeur qui murmure : ce qui reste sans reste.

Each time, Thomas was thrust back into the depths of his being by the very words which had haunted him and which he was pursuing as his nightmare and the explanation of his nightmare. He found that he was ever more empty, ever heavier; he no longer moved without infinite fatigue. His body, after so many struggles, became entirely opaque, and to those who looked at it, it gave the peaceful impression of sleep, though it had not ceased to be awake.

When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough. If we always had smiled on the one who is gone, there would be no despair in our grief; and some sweetness would cling to our tears, reminiscent of virtues and happiness. For our recollections of veritable love—which indeed is the act of virtue containing all others—call from our eyes the same sweet, tender tears as those most beautiful hours wherein memory was born.

The poet's expression of joy conceals his despair at not having found the reality of joy.

Here we have a tragedy in shades of naked inertness.

Does anything in nature despair except man? An animal with a foot caught in a trap does not seem to despair. It is too busy trying to survive. It is all closed in, to a kind of still, intense waiting. Is this a key? Keep busy with survival. Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.

Pusto mi je u duši. Prazno mi je srce.

U mraku, u magli, u kricima i zvižducima, u o?ajanju kojem nisam nalazio razlog, u toj dugoj no?i nesna, u crnom strahu koji nije od neprijatelja, ve? od ne?ega od mene, rodio sam se ovakav kakav sam, nesiguran u sve svoje i u sve ljudsko.

Verovala sam u nešto. U život, u tebe, u decu, u nešto nepoznato što ?e biti lepo, u neku nadu, svejedno u šta. Starost je ružna najviše zato što nam uzme sposobnost da u nešto verujemo.

Ne voliš ljude? -Ljudi su kona?no izdijeljeni, niko nam ne može pomo?i, ponekad se pravimo da to ne znamo, ili zaboravljamo jer nam izgleda nemogu?e, ne mirimo se ali je tako. Neka idu do ?avola. -Ni život ne voliš? -Ostavi me na miru! Šta ho?eš da volim? Slaganje varke na varku, davno sam negdje pro?itao. I smijao se. Sad se ne smijem. Nije veseo taj tvoj život.

My heart is broken. It really is. All the signs are there. I can't sleep- not even burgers. Every time the phone rings, my pulse leaps... But it's never for me, it's never him.

The featureless trundle of my existence began to change. At the time, I didn't have the insight to wonder at the transient nature of despair, but now that I'm older I've seen how little it takes to turn a person's life around for better or worse. An event will do, or an idea. Another person. An idea of a person

Oh, please, Mr. B thinks, not a human. Not another human. He is filled with despair. God's passion for humans always leads to catastrophe, to meteorological upset on an epic scale. What is wrong with the boy that he can't get it up for some nice goddess? Why, oh why, can't he pursue a sensible relationship, one that will not end in disaster?

Pouring breakfast cereal into a bowl, he saw his life crashing down in smoking ruins.

Every summer needs a theme, and I guess Love and Marriage was marginally better than Death and Despair.

She wasn't just a B-girl, she was carrying the whole ugly world in her eyes.

could imagine what it was like to give up, to feel your mind go as wobbly as your body, reconciling yourself to the idea that death would really be a relief—a respite from lonely suffering.

Without quite noticing it, I had slid downward to a place where, as Styron put it, "all sense of hope had vanished, along with the idea of a futurity.

Every man - at least once in his lifetime - has visited the silent and dark street of disappointment.

For a man who is in poverty, doomsday is already there!

Not every thought is a candle! Some thoughts can make the world darker!

Some ideas take you to the stars; some sinks you to the mud!