Best 358 quotes in «hopeless quotes» category

I thought it might make him despair of life, but he has despaired anyway.

I tilt my head and ask “What firsts have we already passed?” “The easy ones,” he says. “First hug, first date, first fight, first time we slept together, although I wasn’t the one sleeping. Now we barely have any left. First kiss. First time to sleep together when we’re both actually awake. First marriage. First kid. We’re done after that. Our lives will become mundane and boring and I’ll have to divorce you and marry a wife who’s twenty years younger than me so I can have a lot more firsts and you’ll be stuck raising the kids.” He bring his hand to my cheek and smile at me. “So you see, babe? I’m only doing this for your benefit. The longer I wait to kiss you, the longer it’ll be before I’m forced to leave you high and dry.

It is almost always better to take a chance and hope that your life will get better instead of ending it.

It is better to hope less than to be hopeless.

It is just that I don’t know how I could live without the hope of her. It would be like learning to live with wooden legs.

It is possible to have a thousand problems and still not have a single valid reason to kill yourself.

It’s okay to feel whatever you need to feel. Just promise me that you will never, ever feel guilty. Promise me that you will never blame yourself. It’s not your fault. You’re just a little girl and it’s not your fault that your life is so much harder than it should be. And as much as you’ll want to forget these things ever happened to you and as much as you’ll want to forget this part of your life existed, I need for you to remember.

Its hard to say what's wrong when nothing is going right!

It’s killing me, baby,” he says, his voice much more calm and quiet. “It’s killing me because I don’t want you to go another day without knowing how I feel about you. And I’m not ready to tell you I’m in love with you, because I’m not. Not yet. But whatever this is I’m feeling—it’s so much more than just like. It’s so much more. And for the past few weeks I’ve been trying to figure it out. I’ve been trying to figure out why there isn’t some other word to describe it. I want to tell you exactly how I feel but there isn’t a single goddamned word in the entire dictionary that can describe this point between liking you and loving you, but I need that word. I need it because I need you to hear me say it.

It’s so easy to lose faith and become lost in all of the politics of the world. That’s why we need the arts. To sublimate our frustration and anger into something beautiful. Freud called sublimation a virtuous defence mechanism because it is in the arts that we can find our humanity.

It seems more and more like the world is gradually coming to an end. There is still no known cure for the deadly virus that is sweeping across the globe. Nations are gripped by fear, as they continuously devise new strategies to stop the undead from taking over the world. Each plan has ended in abysmal failure. The people are quickly losing hope.

It's just that I don't hope any more, I've lost my nerve.

It was hopeless. Their journey was ended before it had truly begun.

It turns out, Holder doesn’t have an issue with Mormons at all. He just has an issue with assholes.

It was a dead hole, smelling of synthetic leather and disinfectant, both of which odors seemed to emanate from the torn scratched material of the seats that lined the three walls. It smelled of the tobacco ashes which had flooded the two standing metal ashtrays. On the chromium lip of one, a cigar butt gleamed wetly like a chewed piece of beef. There was the smell of peanut shells and of the waxy candy wrappers that littered the floor, the smell of old newspapers, dry, inky, smothering and faintly like a urinal, the smell of sweat from armpits and groins and backs and faces, pouring out and drying up in the lifeless air, the smell of clothes—cleaning fluids imbedded in fabric and blooming horribly in the warm sweetish air, picking at the nostrils like thorns—all the exudations of the human flesh, a bouquet of animal being, flowing out, drying up, but leaving a peculiar and ineradicable odor of despair in the room as though chemistry was transformed into spirit, an ascension of a kind, …Light issuing from spotlights in the ceiling was sour and blinding like a sick breath. There was in that room an underlying confusion in the function of the senses. Smell became color, color became smell. Mute started at mute so intently they might have been listening with their eyes, and hearing grew preternaturally acute, yet waited only for the familiar syllables of surnames. Taste died, mouth opened in the negative drowsiness of waiting.

I want to drag knives over my skin, just to feel something other than shame, but I'm not even brave enough for that

It was the helplessness that scared the both of us.

I've never had any luck, Brad. I don't even hope for any any more.

I wonder if Dean is his nice persona and Holder is his scary one. Holder is definitely the one I saw at the grocery store earlier. I think I like Dean a lot better.

I was deluded, and I knew it. Worse: my love for Pippa was muddied-up below the waterline with my mother, with my mother's death, with losing my mother and not being able to get her back. All that blind, infantile hunger to save and be saved, to repeat the past and make it different, had somehow attached itself, ravenously, to her. There was an instability in it, a sickness. I was seeing things that weren't there. I was only one step away from some trailer park loner stalking a girl he'd spotted in the mall. For the truth of it was: Pippa and I saw each other maybe twice a year; we e-mailed and texted, though with no great regularity; when she was in town we loaned each other books and went to the movies; we were friends; nothing more. My hopes for a relationship with her were wholly unreal, whereas my ongoing misery, and frustration, were an all-too-horrible reality. Was groundless, hopeless, unrequited obsession any way to waste the rest of my life?

I wonder… because that’s all I can do. Silently wonder about the hopeless boy who somehow burrowed himself into the forefront of my thoughts and won’t go the hell away.

Live. If you mix the letters up in the words like and love, you get live.

My mother sat motionless at the kitchen table, her head cradled on one arm, the other extended toward her ever-present coffee mug. This was going to be another of her bad days. It was hard to pinpoint when I’d given up hope that she would pull herself together--that me being in charge would be a temporary thing. But too many months had passed with nothing changing, except somewhere along the way I’d stopped feeling sympathy for her. Or anger. It was easier to not feel anything where my mother was concerned because then I could never be let down.

Looks like we have quite the predicament here, boys.” I smile at both of them, then eye the coffee in Breckin’s hands. “I see the Mormon brought the queen her offering of coffee. Very impressive.” I look at Holder and cock my eyebrow. “Do you wish to reveal your offering, hopeless boy, so that I may decide who shall accompany me at the classroom throne today?” Breckin looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. Holder laughs and picks his backpack up off the desk. “Looks like someone’s in need of an ego-shattering text today.

Mi sta uccidendo, Sky» dice, con voce più calma. «Mi sta uccidendo, perché non voglio che passi un altro giorno senza che tu sappia come mi sento. E non sono pronto a dirti che sono innamorato di te, perché non lo sono. Non ancora. Ma qualsiasi cosa sia questo sentimento, è molto di più che una semplice attrazione. È davvero molto di più. E nelle ultime tre settimane ho cercato di capire cosa fosse. Ho cercato di capire perché non esiste una parola in grado di descriverlo. Voglio dirti esattamente come mi sento ma non c’è una sola fottuta parola in tutto il dizionario capace di descrivere questo punto a metà fra l’amarsi e il volersi. Ma ho bisogno di quella parola, mi serve. Ne ho bisogno perché voglio che tu mi senta dirla.

My mother is my friend Who shares with me her bread All my hopelessness cured! Her company makes me secured!

No, Sky. You didn't tell her everything…you told you everything. Those things happened to you, not to someone else. They happened to Hope. They happened to Sky. They happened to the best friend that I loved all those years ago, and they happened to the best friend I love who’s looking back at me right now.

Ne hissettiğini çok iyi biliyordum, çünkü aynı acıyı paylaşıyorduk. Onun hissettiklerini ben de hissediyordum. Aynı şekilde, benim hissettiklerimi de o hissediyordu. İki insan bir olduğunda olan şey buydu: artık sadece sevgiyi paylaşmakla kalmazlardı. Acıyı, üzüntüyü ve kederi de paylaşırlardı.

Never lose hope; until your bones are rotten, never give up. Once the final whistle did not blow up, keep running hard!

No matter how bad you feel, God never sees you as a reckless person. He may see you as a sinner who needs to be re-washed to get back to his old vision for His purpose, but He will never see you as a hopeless being who was created for nothing. Now if God will not see you as hopeless, why then should you see yourself that way? Be bold to say am qualified to dominate the world!

No matter what happens life just keeps going and moving forward and words keep flowing and truths keep spewing whether you like it or not and life never lets you pause and just catch your fucking breath.

Nothing is more excruciating than hopelessly longing for lost love.

Não vou ficar para aqui a desejar uma vida perfeita. As coisas que nos derrubam na vida são testes, e esses testes obrigam-nos a escolher entre desistir, ficar caídos no chão ou sacudir a poeira e levantarmo-nos ainda mais fortes e firmes. Eu escolho levantar-me mais forte e firme. Provavelmente vou cair mais algumas vezes antes de a vida se cansar de mim, mas garanto que nunca vou ficar estendida no chão.

no concept of danger, reality, flow or compassion. you can feel the despair escaping from their machines, their lives as hopeless and as numbed as yours.

No matter how bad you feel, God never sees you as a hopeless person. He may see you as a sinner who needs to be re-washed to get back to his old vision for His purpose, but He will never see you as a hopeless being.

Nothing worked. This blazing pain seemed only to be getting worse.

Not your face, your dimple. And no. You’re the only guy I’ve ever had the urge to lick.” He smiles at me confidently. “Good. Because you’re the only girl I’ve ever had the urge to love.

Now I know it’s because somewhere in my mind, I still harboured hatred and fear for that man, so it was just easier to erect the brick wall and never look back.

O günkü davranışım yüzünden Breckin özrü hak ediyordu." "Peki ben hak etmiyor muydum?" "Hayır," dedi kesin bir tavırla. "Sen kelimeleri hak etmiyorsun, Sky. Sen harekete geçmeyi hak ediyorsun.

One of the very striking life lessons from Game of Thrones. When Arya was blind; hopeless and helpless. The Waif lured her into multiple stick fights and the Waif would promptly beat Arya in every sparring match. But through those stick fight, Arya learned to cope with her blindness and how to fight “in the dark.” After Arya had regained her sight and Jaqen had granted the Waif’s wish to kill Arya. Arya confronted the Waif in a hideout and put out the only light in the room. Arya best the Waif due to her proficiency in fighting without sight (which, ironically, was trained by the Waif). Arya killed her adversary. ONE THING ABOUT CHALLENGES IN LIFE IS: THROUGH THEM, WE LEARN HOW TO OVERCOME THEM. Always Pay Attention!

One foot in front of the other was all she could manage.

Oh Irina, there's so much life for us." "Is there? I feel I have no life. There's nothing in front of me but a black wall.

Once you believe that god is not a private property of anybody, you are on your way to becoming a new messiah. Maybe your own if not the world's

Satan is hopelessly desperate as Jesus waits patiently.

Orestes beloved. as you die you destroy me. You have torn away the part of my mind where hope was .

Our Ancestors knew that healing comes in cycles and circles. One generation carries the pain so that the next can live and heal. One cannot live without the other, each is the other's hope, meaning & strength.

Qualsiasi cosa lui senta, la sento anch’io. Qualsiasi cosa io senta, la sente anche lui. È ciò che accade quando due persone diventano una sola: non si condivide solo l’amore. Si condivide il dolore, la tristezza, l’afflizione e la sofferenza.

Real ugly endings are better than fake happily ever after's

Sana tam olarak ne hissettiğimi söylemeyi istiyorum, ama lanet olası sözlükte hoşlanmak ve sevmek arasındaki noktayı tarif edebilecek bir kelime yok, ve o kelimeye ihtiyacım var. İhtiyacım var, çünkü söylediğimi duymanı istiyorum.” Yaşamak.Kelime sanki hep orada, sözlükte ait olduğu yerde, hoşlanmak ve sevmek arasına saklı kalmıştı. “Yaşamak,” dedim.

Pain writes the words, sorrow wields the pen, tears wet the paper, and the story mends the heart.