Best 358 quotes in «hopeless quotes» category

I have no use for these other loves. Seal them shut in jars and place them in the pantry. A reserve of love. Thank them for their love. They are so kind. Perhaps store them in the fridge For others to take. They say love is a panacea. I know it is not. Flakes of snow, no two are alike. When I am down on my knees, hopeless and angry, for the world no longer makes sense, I won't look in the pantry or fridge. It is your hand pressing on my shoulder that makes me whole, makes me forget. What trouble? What world?

I hope that in due time the chemists will justify their proceedings by some large generalisations deduced from the infinity of results which they have collected. For me I am left hopelessly behind and I will acknowledge to you that through my bad memory organic chemistry is to me a sealed book. Some of those here, Hofmann for instance, consider all this however as scaffolding, which will disappear when the structure is built. I hope the structure will be worthy of the labour. I should expect a better and a quicker result from the study of the powers of matter, but then I have a predilection that way and am probably prejudiced in judgment.

I just practically begged him to kiss me, and he’s critiquing my grammar?

İnanılmaz derecede cesursun. Ve bunu atlatacaksın, çünkü çok güçlü bir kalbin var. Hayata ve insanlara dair birçok şeyi sevebileceğini asla düşünemeyeceğin bir kalbin var. Ve çok güzelsin." Elimi kalbine götürdüm. "Burada. Kalbin o kadar güzel ki, günün birinde biri kalbini hak ettiği şekilde sevecek.

I know how you feel. But people can't surpass their true design. Our talents, our gifts. All programmed into us from the start. I know this because since birth... I was made to destroy.

I know it’s hard for you to allow yourself to feel this. You've gone so long training yourself to block the feelings and emotions out any time someone touches you.

I know my mouth is agape and my eyes are wide, but I'm relieved that hope isn't a tangible thing, because everyone around me would see mine crumbling.

I lived in a really dark place. I wasn't safe in my own mind. I woke up every morning hoping to die and then spent the rest of the day wondering if maybe I was already dead because I couldn't even tell the difference.

I’ll do whatever you say, Cassie,” he says helplessly. His eyes shine brighter than the stars overhead. “I understand why you have to go. If it were you inside that camp, I would go. A hundred thousand Silencers couldn’t stop me.” He presses his lips against my ear and whispers low and fierce, as if he’s sharing the most important secret in the world, which maybe he is. “It’s hopeless. And it’s stupid. It’s suicidal. But love is a weapon they have no answer for. They know how you think, but they can’t know what you feel.” Not we. They. A threshold has been crossed, and he isn’t stupid. He knows it’s the kind you can’t cross back over.

I love that there's no cutoff where we get labeled and sent off to a home for hopeless, cranky, depressives. Every day is a new chance to listen longer and be braver and love more. We get to try again and again and again.

…I’m afraid of what the digital age will do to the world, to the things we think are important… it’s almost like people want to believe in some illusion that they’re robots and forget altogether that they’re real, living people… but everything these days is disposable, even people themselves, and that’s why I’m afraid for the world,” Mandy confessed, looking depressed and worried. “So am I… but I’ll still watch all of it as the world dooms itself, because I want to see how it ends, and whether or not they’ll be intelligent enough to forget all of this digital illusion afterwards,” Alecto explained. “I’m sure that they’ll be able to realize how wrong it all is… even though the idiots outnumber most people these days, there are still enough intelligent people to fight against it.

I'm afraid to hope but I can't help it, and the idea of hoping in this most hopeless of all places makes me want to cry.

I’m just a brother who loved his sister more than life itself.

I'm inlove with him. Completely. Absolutely. Tragically.

I need to kiss you,” he says again, this time a desperate plea. “Please, Sky. I’m scared that after I tell you what I’m about to tell you… I’ll never get to kiss you again.” He pulls himself closer to me and strokes my cheek with his thumb, never taking his eyes off mine. “Please.”

I'm not even going to tell you what I think about what just happened in there. But I know it sucked and I have no idea why you aren't crying right now, but I know your heart hurts, and maybe even your pride. So fuck school. We’re going for ice cream.

I needed a way out of this—the bathroom, the pills, the sleeplessness, the failed, stupid life.

{...} Is he always this angry? Is he always so charming when he isn't busy being angry? I hate that he is either one way or the other and never in between. It would be nice to see a laid-back, calm side to him. I wonder if he even has an in between. 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 go the hell away.

I once asked God in a dream if I could see the world, he answered me, "When you die I will show you more than that boring world has to offer. I promise." Am I silly to think he will make good on his promise to me? I think we will be traveling to different galaxies, into the universe next door, out in space where a black hole will no longer be a mystery but a radiant sight to see. I do, I think he will find me upon my death and fly with me into the depths of his creation.

I ran up the stairs, shedding pieces of my suit as I went, determined for a shower, resolute in washing away what I’d just done, who I really was but I was certain there was nothing that could cleanse me, to launder my poisoned blood. This was who I was. Hopeless personified.

Insane", he says simply. "Hopeless. The king is a saint and cannot rule, and his son his a devil and should not.

In the daytime, I know that they're (Russians) close. But at night, my optimism abandons me, I buckle. The night is German, and who am I against the night?

I pull his mouth to mine and I kiss him. I kiss him for always having the perfect thing to say. I kiss him for always being there for me. I kiss him for supporting whatever decision I think I might need to make. I kiss him for being so patient with me while I figure everything out. I kiss him because I can’t think of anything better than climbing back inside that car with him and talking about everything we’ll do when we get to Hawaii. - Sky

I slowly lean in toward her when her lips part into a smile. “Are you planning on using tongue this time?” she whispers. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a step back, completely thrown off by her comment. I rub my palms down my face and groan. “Dammit, Six. I was already feeling inadequate. Now you’ve just put expectations on it.” She’s smiling when I look at her again. “Oh, there are definitely expectations,” she says teasingly. “I expect this to be the most mind-blowing thing I’ve ever experienced, so you better deliver.

I take my seat and pick the e-reader back up. “You know, Breckin. You really are pretty damn great.” He smiles and winks at me. “It’s the Mormon in me. We’re a pretty awesome people.

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.

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

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

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

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.

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 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.

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’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.

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

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.

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

It was the helplessness that scared the both of us.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.