Best 1597 quotes in «despair quotes» category

[...] Sivesh cried one name aloud. It was the name of Azhrarn, and in that name was all the pain and loneliness and despair and accusation that any mortal throat could utter.

Six horses died in a tractor-trailer fire. There. That's the hard part. I wanted to tell you straight away so we could grieve together. So many sad things, that's just one on a long recent list that loops and elongates in the chest, in the diaphragm, in the alveoli. What is it they say, heartsick or downhearted? I picture a heart lying down on the floor of the torso, pulling up the blankets over its head, thinking the pain will go on forever (even though it won't). The heart is watching Lifetime movies and wishing, and missing all the good parts of her that she has forgotten. The heart is so tired of beating herself up, she wants to stop it still, but also she wants the blood to return, wants to bring in the thrill and wind of the ride, the fast pull of life driving underneath her. What the heart wants? The heart wants her horses back.

Snails do not despair for having short legs, but rejoice for being able to travel long distances in spite of them.

Smile in the face of sorrow; hope in the face of despair; persevere in the face of obstacles, and love in the face of hate.

So instead of giving in to despair I chose active melancholy, in so far as I was capable of activity, in other words I chose the kind of melancholy that hopes, that strives and that seeks, in preference to the melancholy that despairs numbly and in distress.

Some days punch us in the gut so hard it seems we can feel the whole universe gasp with despair.

Some days simply lay on you like stones.

Some of you may feel that if you don't do something soon to change your life, you will be left by the roadside, alone, homeless and in despair. But is the despair not there as you reach and grapple to create or manifest your desires through your own effort and will? What happens if or when those things appear in your life? Joy? Peace? Or a temporary sense of relief? What if it is relief from the wanting you have been craving for so long, not the outcome, but the relief from the constant wanting.

Someone speak to me. Call out to me and take me out. Please, please, I'm begging you, say something kind to me. Tell me I'm pretty, tell me I'm sweet. Invite me out for coffee, or more... Tell me that you want to spend the day with me and me alone.

Some people are silently struggling with burdens that would break our backs.

Some people never have any luck. All at once, as though a thick veil had been whisked aside, he clearly saw the wretchedness―the bottomless, monotonous wretchedness―of his existence. The wretchedness which had been, which was, and which was yet to come. His last days indistinguishable from the first, with nothing ahead of him or behind him or around him, nothing in his heart, nothing anywhere.

Some stories end in despair, some begin there

Something like another wave of despair crashes into me. "I'm so heavy." I blink and a tear slides down my cheek. "Then you lean on us for a while. Let us carry you, Joy, until you're not heavy anymore. That's what family is.

Sometimes adversity becomes the fuel in which we run on.

Sometimes I could cope with the sullen despair that overwhelmed me: but sometimes the whirlwind passions of my soul drove me to seek, by bodily exercise and by change of place, some relief from my intolerable sensations. It was during an access of this kind that I suddenly left my home, and bending my steps towards the near Alpine valleys, sought in the magnificence, the eternity of such scenes, to forget myself and my ephemeral, because human, sorrows.

Sometimes I reach the highest heights of hope, at other times I reach the deepest of despair. Sometimes I am happy, at other times I am sad. At some point I am a believer, and at some other time an unbeliever. Sometimes I love, some other times I hate. That’s what it means to be human.

Sometimes the hole of despair is just too deep. Hope cannot reach that low, or maybe a person cannot hold on to the edge of Hope from inside the crater of despair.

Sometimes patience is hard to distinguish from despair.

Sometimes one feels suddenly doomed by fate.

Sometimes, situation may be uncomfortable but must endure.

Sometimes when we are drowning in our own loss we lash out--anger is momentarily easier to cope with.

Sometimes, this rage builds up inside me and I...I feel like it's eating me alive. Like soon there'll be nothing left of me but hatred and despair...It's more alive than I am.

Sometimes, we can’t help but to shed tears!

Soru buydu. Onda aradığım neydi? Bende eksik olan neydi ? İyi bir yaşamım yok muydu? Yaşamımın giderek geri dönülmez bir biçimde daralan bir dehlize dönüşmekte olduğunu kime anlatabilirim? Çektiğim işkenceyi, uykusuz gecelerimi, intiharla flört etmemi kim anlayabilirdi?

Somewhere, somehow, maybe I can find someone who can make my heart beat again.. For everyday that I pine for your love, and for every single time you reject me, I start to die deep inside.. That throbbing pain has slowly turned into numbing emptiness..

So that you will hear me my words sometimes grow thin as the tracks of the gulls on the beaches. Necklace, drunken bell for your hands smooth as grapes. And I watch my words from a long way off. They are more yours than mine. They climb on my old suffering like ivy. It climbs the same way on damp walls. You are to blame for this cruel sport. They are fleeing from my dark lair. You fill everything, you fill everything. Before you they peopled the solitude that you occupy, and they are more used to my sadness than you are. Now I want them to say what I want to say to you to make you hear as I want you to hear me. The wind of anguish still hauls on them as usual. Sometimes hurricanes of dreams still knock them over. You listen to other voices in my painful voice. Lament of old mouths, blood of old supplications. Love me, companion. Don't forsake me. Follow me. Follow me, companion, on this wave of anguish. But my words become stained with your love. You occupy everything, you occupy everything. I am making them into an endless necklace for your white hands, smooth as grapes.

Stay calm and exercise restrain during your most desperate moment or you shall desperately say what when your desperation is over, you shall come to a later realization of what you shouldn’t have say and notice how silence could have been the best option to mere words!

Spent my whole life,” Morganith went on, staring miserably into her drink, “thinkin’ that out there somewhere was ah woman who would love me incredibly and I would love her incredibly. Like ah fire consumin’ the very air. Then I meet her, and she leaves me.” Morganith snapped her fingers lazily. “Just like that.

Suffocate despair with prayers.

Such are the foolish dreams of idealistic children who believe that anything can possibly get better over time.

Terror came. I would fall into a slumber of days, and getting up would go on with the same sad dreams. I was ripe for death and along a road of perils my weakness led me to the confines of the world and of Cimmeria, home of whirlwinds and of darkness. - Delirium II - Alchemy of the Word

Temptation is not his (Satan's) strongest weapon. Despair is.

Take caution when declaring war because you may believe it will be easy, but war will always end in despair.

Tell me, who have never be knocked down by life’s circumstances? It takes grace and enough strength, to get up and begin again

That girl had two chances. And both of us let her down.

That day wasn't the first time I had attempted suicide. Simply disappearing into the distant nothingness where there was no pain and no more feelings - back then I thought it an act of empowerment. Otherwise I had very little power to make any decisions about my life, my body, my actions. Taking my own life seemed my last trump card.

That is the worst thing about despair: it is not constant, any more than love is.

The air in my home is heavy with my mom's unhappiness. And her exhaustion. And her sheer dissatisfaction with her life. And I hate it. I can be up in my room when she's in the kitchen below and I feel her despair seeping up through the floorboards. You can hear her banging pots and pans or cursing the vacuum cleaner

The contemplation of suicide, however brooding and painful it might be, is an essential act that may ascend toward something other than what was originally thought of as an end itself, that is, to hastily commit the act without the pleasure of justifying. Like a spiritual meditation, the contemplation of suicide involves a meticulous process of intellectual and emotional planning over some dark and unbearable sleepless nights. Once the thought of suicide has already been decided upon, it becomes irreversible that no amount of justification can change the decision to consummate the act. But life itself is already an act of suicide, to invoke the French-Romanian philosopher Emil Cioran. So why rush, there’s always a romantic way—a particular time or place—to die. (Danny Castillones Sillada, The Pain and the Pleasure of Contemplating Suicide)

The blacker the prospects and the harder it was to hope, the more firmly they grasped at hope when it flickered forth.

The courage to continue before the face of despair is the recognition in those eyes of darkness we find our own night vision. Women blessed with death-eyes are fearless.

The danger of prolonged despair is its tendency to cloud the gift of a new beginning that every tomorrow offers. --Anissa's Redemption

The ashes wail a gut-wrenching cry. They sing out of anguish, for not just the loss of a home. But for all the losses from my life—each singing their own notes.

The clear awareness of having been born into a losing struggle need not lead one into despair. I do not especially like the idea that one day I shall be tapped on the shoulder and informed, not that the party is over but that it is most assuredly going on—only henceforth in my absence. (It's the second of those thoughts: the edition of the newspaper that will come out on the day after I have gone, that is the more distressing.) Much more horrible, though, would be the announcement that the party was continuing forever, and that I was forbidden to leave. Whether it was a hellishly bad party or a party that was perfectly heavenly in every respect, the moment that it became eternal and compulsory would be the precise moment that it began to pall.

The dark skies of despair are no match for the bright skies of hope.

The days passed in a dream. I pictured our reunion again and again, played it out in my mind over and over until I’d almost worn a groove in my thoughts, so deep that it seemed the only thing I could think of was our reunion. Anticipation is a gift. Perhaps there is none greater. Anticipation is born of hope. Indeed it is hope’s finest expression. In hope’s loss, however, is the greatest despair.

The desperate piercing scream of horror echoed far above the sharpened tops of the trees wrapped in thin obsidian-transparent mist, and I startled jerkily, tripping again, and almost collapsed onto the cold moist ground.

The deepest comfort comes from the divine self.

The deepest wounds of the soul are healed only by compassion... People do not merely need to be clothed, they need to be embraced with love. A love that enters into their own fears and frailty, a love that suffers with them and stays with them through their darkest hour.

The disappearance of the presence of beauty is the most despairing of events on this time-wheel of ours that rolls onward towards death.