Best 240 quotes in «desperation quotes» category

I'm not a stranger to depression and desperation. I can be kind of tortured but I do like to have a lot of fun.

My hunger and desperation, being an actor, an out of work actor - my memory of that is as fresh as an open wound.

I sort of got into Westerns... It was a sort of desperation move, really. I had several pictures that didn't go very well, and I just realised that I would have to try something else.

Many books today suggest that the mass of women lead lives of noisy desperation.

In all probability an outburst of desperation in the midst of general submissiveness will always help.

I worked out of desperation. I used to hit fast and run in hopes that people wouldn't realize that I really couldn't do anything.

Lottery tickets are a surtax on desperation.

So how can I hold Tobias’s desperation against him, like I’m better than him, like I’ve never let my own brokenness blind me?

Radicalism is but the desperation of logic.

Some-one called my style 'sense of urgency' guitar playing and I've always admitted I often don't know where I'm going when I solo. But that desperation is what makes it exciting.

There's something so showy about desperation, it takes hard wits to see it's a grandiose form of funk.

Success comes from aspiration, desperation, perspiration, and inspiration!

There are three things that make a person a writer: inspiration, perspiration and desperation.

There is so much poverty and desperation in South Sudan, and yet each side is militarily equipped.

There's a real sense of desperation when you grow up in poverty.

The characters have desperation and it doesn't work out for everyone. Maybe it's not fair because I'm responding to the adaptations that smooth out the edges.

The desperation was coming off you in waves. You were all but begging to dance with me. I am doing you a favor.

A big part of dealing with depression is realizing that you are in control of your own happiness.

Throughout it all, I loved her as much as I always had, and I found myself aching for those simpler times of the past. I knew what was happening, of course. As we were drifting apart, I was becoming more desperate to save what we once had shared; like a vicious circle, however, my desperation made us drift apart even further.

To worry is to become accessible, unwittingly accessible. And once you worry you cling to anything out of desperation; and once you cling you are bound to get exhausted or to exhaust whoever or whatever you are clinging to.

We all need money, but there are degrees of desperation.

Whereas formerly, before the advent of machinery, the commonest article you could pick up had a life and warmth which gave it individual interest, now everything is turned out to such a perfection of deadness that one is driven to pick up and collect, in sheer desperation, the commonest rubbish still surviving from the earlier periods.

Who knows where inspiration comes from. Perhaps it arises from desperation. Perhaps it comes from the flukes of the universe, the kindness of the muses.

A desperate soul needs a good and inspiring music

A funny thing happens when you have nothing left to live for. Your existence loses all its sharp edges. There are no more steep drops, no hills to climb. Colors blur and muddle together until your surroundings are a bunch of meaningless shapes and figures painted in the same shade of gray. There's nothing that could possibly surprise you or resurrect those old sensations of joy or fear. No humans could be as unfeeling, as numb, as you are. And then, just when you're getting lulled into the monotonous routine, something snaps. No more.

A man in the trading center was caught trying to sell his two young daughters. The buyer had informed the police. People were becoming desperate.

A month ago it would have been my dream just to be in his bedroom watching a movie, but now it’s torture because I want so much more. It’s like my entire conscious state has been reduced to this toxic blend of hope and uncertainty. I hate that I have to act cool and almost pretend I don’t like him when in fact I do, because, God forbid, I come across as desperate for attention or a little clingy, which everyone should know are perfectly natural human behaviors, after all. Ugh!

When new hopes fail, old hopes return in the endless cycle of desperation.

Any nation that teaches and makes it's people look for miracles is making it's people shallow.

Artemis let her head fall back, her eyes closed, her lips suddenly trembling. Apollo dying. “Please. Please, Maximus. I’ll refrain from provoking you anymore. I’ll stay in the shadows with my stockings and shoes on and never swim in your pond again, never disturb you again, only please do this one thing, I beg you. Save my brother.

As a species we're doomed by hope, then? You could call it hope. That, or desperation. But we're doomed without hope, as well, said Jimmy. Only as individuals, said Crake cheerfully.

As much automatic, Abnegation-bred sympathy as I have for the people living in this place, I am also afraid of them. If they are like the factionless, then they are surely desperate like the factionless, and I am wary of desperate people.

At 6:15 she was standing on her front porch watering gardenias and watching another line of thunderstorms split and go around her. The same thing happened almost every day. Some days they came so close all she could smell was the rain. The wind whipped up dust from the fields until it drove like buckshot into the shuddering mesquites, and Clara Nell started to pray. 'Jesus,' she whispered. 'Jesus, Jesus....' But the only thing that came out of the sky was her topsoil. Every day the wind took a little more, and it hadn't rained in almost a year.

A woman's voice answered, "Hello?" Walter cried back at her, "Hello, oh Lord, hello!" "This is a recording," recited the woman's voice. "Miss Helen Arasumian is not home. Will you leave a message on the wire spool so she may call you when she returns? Hello? This is a recording. Miss Helen Arasumian is not home. Will you leave a message -" He hung up. He sat with his mouth twitching. On second thought he redialed that number. "When Miss Helen Arasumian comes home," he said, "tell her to go to hell.

Being alone is much better than being around negative people out of loneliness or desperation.

Between death and hell a bridge shining silver wings offers his soul hope.

Body dysmorphic disorder wedges itself between the sufferer’s desperation to connect and the fear that they might be rejected while attempting to do so. This serves the purpose of preventing rejection; if one is constantly dismissing oneself it becomes much more difficult to be rejected by another human being. For many highly sensitive body dysmorphic disorder patients, rejection is experienced as the ultimate proof that something must be inherently defective about them. For this to be the case is often interpreted as absolute confirmation that they can never be loved. Taking the risk of possible rejection might mean experiencing these dire consequences, and to most, the benefits do not out-weigh the consequences. Thus body dysmorphic disorder exists in the space of the relational ambivalence, completely changing the focus from fears of intimacy and fundamental feelings of inadequacy to excessive attention towards perceptible physical features.

Bosch had never liked Las Vegas, though he came often on cases. It shared a kinship with Los Angeles; both were places desperate people ran to. Often, when they ran from Los Angeles, they came here. It was the only place left.

But desperation is the mother-in-law of invention.

But I had come to where I had never been before, the blessed point of sufficient desperation.

But she stopped herself. That wouldn't make it right. You didn't forgive because it was the only choice you thought you had. That didn't make it forgiveness, that made it desperation. She'd always been too desperate about Jake. Always.

But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate. And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.

But when they made love he was offended by her eyes. They behaved as though they belonged to someone else. Someone watching. Looking out of the window at the sea. At a boat in the river. Or a passerby in the mist in a hat. He was exasperated because he didn't know what that look meant. He put it somewhere between indifference and despair. He didn’t know that in some places, like the country that Rahel came from, various kinds of despair competed for primacy. And that personal despair could never be desperate enough. That something happened when personal turmoil dropped by at the wayside shrine of the vast, violent, circling, driving, ridiculous, insane, unfeasible, public turmoil of a nation. That Big God howled like a hot wind, and demanded obeisance. Then Small God (cozy and contained, private and limited) came away cauterized, laughing numbly at his own temerity. Inured by the confirmation of his own inconsequence, he became resilient and truly indifferent. Nothing mattered much. Nothing much mattered. And the less it mattered, the less it mattered. It was never important enough. Because Worse Things had happened. In the country that she came from, poised forever between the terror of war and the horror of peace, Worse Things kept happening. So Small God laughed a hollow laugh, and skipped away cheerfully. Like a rich boy in shorts. He whistled, kicked stones. The source of his brittle elation was the relative smallness of his misfortune. He climbed into people’s eyes and became an exasperating expression.

But what if I don't believe in God? It's like they've sat me in front of a mannequin and said, Fall in love with him. You can't will feeling. What Jack says issues from some still, true place that could not be extinguished by all the schizophrenia his genetic code could muster. It sounds something like this. Get on your knees and find some quiet space inside yourself, a little sunshine right about here. Jack holds his hands in a ball shape about midchest, saying, Let go. Surrender, Dorothy, the witch wrote in the sky. Surrender, Mary. I want to surrender but have no idea what that means. He goes on with a level gaze and a steady tone: Yield up what scares you. Yield up what makes you want to scream and cry. Enter into that quiet. It's a cathedral. It's an empty football stadium with all the lights on. And pray to be an instrument of peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is conflict, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair hope... What if I get no answer there? If God hasn't spoken, do nothing. Fulfill the contract you entered into at the box factory, amen. Make the containers you promised to tape and staple. Go quietly and shine. Wait. Those not impelled to act must remain in the cathedral. Don't be lonely. I get so lonely sometimes, I could put a box on my head and mail myself to a stranger ...

Common sense will not accomplish great things. Simply become insane and desperate.

Writing about writing is a bit like talking about a conversation you are having; it tends to obscure desperation about where the next word is coming from.

Claire. It was the last candle left within the Indian Agent. The last glimmer. He curled himself around it to keep it alive, and when the storm inhaled he studied his right hand, could feel her beside him in the carriage that night and, as if he could insist on this, looked up the depression he was calling a road, for the cabman's blindered horse, huffing through the snow, its lanterns swinging. Claire waiting for him on the worn velvet seat.

Courage comes from the belly - all else is desperation.

Controversy is a last resort for the talentless.

Desperation is not an evidence of hard work, it's a sign of lack of faith