Quotes About Despair

Did you cry?" "No. I didn't cry ... I just kept thinking that when human beings get that way, they're no good for anything.

When I lay next to her my body was enveloped in her current, which mingled with my own harsher current of gloom like a " withered leaf settling to rest on the stones at the bottom of a pool." I had freed myself from fear and uneasiness.

Disqualified as a human being. I had now ceased utterly to be a human being.

For the first time in my life I realized what a horrible, miserable, salvationless hell it is to be without money.

By living this way, what will my fortune be? There is nothing. Am I simply a sickly man? What should I do? I had no direction, nothing. I thought that this reckless life of mine was only a nuisance to others and devoid of meaning. This was quite hard to bear.

I have no choice. I am a person with no reason to live. I know my lot. Yes, it would be great to die one day sooner.

Extremely tragic is a good description of you.

At times everything grows misty and dark before my eyes, and I feel that the strength of my whole body is oozing away through my finger tips.

I drew with extremely excessively depressed emotions, deliberately penning each line, only to earn money for drink.

Nevertheless, I still wait for someone. Who on earth am I waiting for, sitting here everyday? For what sort of person? Maybe what I'm waiting for isn't even a human. I dislike humans. No, I fear them. When I meet someone and indifferently exchange such greetings as 'How are you?' or 'It's become cold', greetings I don't want to make, I somehow get the unpleasant feeling that there is no such horrible liar in the whole world as I, and I wish I were dead.

Despair is impossible in humans. They often are deceived by hope, but are also deceived by the notion of despair.

How cruel of you. What part of what you see here is carefree? If only you could understand the sadness of the ones who grow the delicate flowers of buffoonery, protecting them from but the slightest gust of wind and always on the verge of despair!

no thought in the world is worse than the realization that, "My life is a nuisance to others. I am useless.

People have told me, really more times that I can remember, ever since I was a small boy, how lucky I was, but I have always felt as if I were suffering in hell.

I was plagued by a heavy sense of loss, as if my heart had become empty.

Tomorrow will probably be another day like today. Happiness will never come my way. I know that. But it's probably best to go to sleep believing that it will surely come, tomorrow it will come.

Doesn't that mean in effect that i have no choice but suicide?

I wept bitterly, crying aloud. I could have wept on and on, interminably.

That is precisely what I don't understand: if my neighbors manage to survive without killing themselves, without going mad, maintaining an interest in political parties, not yielding to despair, resolutely pursuing the fight for existence, can their griefs really be genuine? Am I wrong in thinking that these people have become such complete egoists and are so convinced that they have never once doubted themselves?

Mi vida ha estado llena de verguenza. La verdad es que no tengo la más remota idea de lo que es vivir como un ser humano.

Me? Are you kidding? I'm going to Hell.

I drop steadily, inevitably, into unhappiness, and I have no specific plan to stave off my descent.

To appeal for help to any human being—I could expect nothing from that expedient.

Cependant, à ce moment, j'étais encore incapable de donner leur sens réel à ces mots : « Je veux mourir. » Une idée d'amusement s'y cachait.