Quotes About Despair

You can only be creative so long and then you're just down and out and completely destroyed.

By 2012, my game was shot. You're sitting on your chair watching players' leagues below you play shots you can't. That destroyed me.

That was devastating to me: how a bright, energetic kid could turn doomed and desperate.

Why doesn't that Devil take me with him? It would be much better with him than it is here.

I learned a good deal about economics, and about America, from the author of the Reagan tax reforms - the great Jack Kemp. What gave Jack that incredible enthusiasm was his belief in the possibilities of free people, in the power of free enterprise and strong communities to overcome poverty and despair. We need that same optimism right now.

There's no winning for us. We're screwed. We were born into a system we don't agree with, and we got caught. Here, out there, it doesn't matter. There's nothing left for us.

Forget it," he said. "You don't know what it's like to love someone like that, then to have that love thrown back in your face—

I felt like someone had ripped my heart out and tossed it across the other side of the room. There was a burning, agonizing pain in my chest, and I had no idea how it could ever be filled.

This, I realized, was what real depression felt like. What madness felt like.

I thought you liked suffering and death. I mean... you always look like suffering and death.

They were a borderland people, living on the far rim of empire, where in six or seven generations the American clay had grown sturdy and tall. They were patriots—if that term implied political affiliation rather than a moral state of grace—who were disputatious and litigious, given to violence on the frontier and in the street: a gentle people they were not. Their disgruntlement now approached despair, with seething resentments and a conviction that designing, corrupt men in

Into that malevolent place they walked, emerging with pathetic little bundles: a coat, a cap, perhaps a frayed pair of trousers. In the seam of a soiled shirt, one family found a hidden note. "I dream of the hills around Siena, and of my love whom I shall never see again," the doomed man had written. "I shall become one gaping wound—like the winds, nothing.

A priest anointed the body with oil. Slovik would be buried outside a World War I cemetery at Oise-Aisne, near Soissons, in row three of Plot E—a hidden, unsanctified tract reserved for the dishonorable dead. 'Tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart.

There was hope, not much hope, but some, that her husband would change. She dreamed he would stop drinking up his paycheck, stop disappearing for days, for weeks, for months. She dreamed he would stop running around and shaming her, dreamed she would not have to beg him for money for milk for the baby, Sam. She dreamed that this time it might be bearable, it might last. She didn't want much, really, just something decent. All she got was me.

think I will never feel normal again, or do simple things with simple pleasure. An anchor is tugging at my chest, and I feel if I don't resist I will be pulled under, and my heart will drown.

You do not defeat an enemy by just getting past him. You defeat fear by growing in faith. You defeat despair by growing in hope. You defeat death by growing in life. True life is only lived by those who no longer live for themselves, but for The King, and do all things for His sake and for those He gave His life for.

He concluded, "While there may have been extremist groups who grasped the opportunity to exploit the violence…to state that the riots were Communist or otherwise inspired appears to me to be a lame excuse to salve the consciences of those who do not want to, or refuse to, face the conditions that precipitated this disaster and similar ones in other great cities of our nation: rat-infested slums, unemployment, poverty, hopelessness, frustration, and despair.

Unlike my dead lover, I refuse to/ choose the day I shock the world. There's no/ mystery left in suicide. The challenge is, my love,/ to keep yourself awake/ despite the sleeping pill doses of sickness and/ despair.

Depression is about as close as you get to somewhere between dead and alive, and it's the worst.

Blue Nile. I could see the envelope sinking, sinking…but

It's a noir world. Unfair things happen.

When I remembered Stefan first coming for me, it wasn't a man in a black mask or a crazy guy shoving Three Musketeers bars at me as he tried to convince me I was his brother. I remembered an ocean, dark as a universe without stars-black with guilt, despair, rage, violence, self loathing. All I could see was his hand reaching out of the water; the rest of him was buried in a liquid Hell he couldn't escape

Sometimes I feel like I'm sailing on a sunken dream

Someone observed darkly that it is always two A.M. when one is in the 'dark night of the soul.