Best 1597 quotes in «despair quotes» category

It was poisonous, unnatural to let the dead go with a mere whimpering, a slight murmur, a rose bouquet of good taste. Good taste was out of place in the company of death, death itself was the essence of bad taste. And there must be much rage and saliva in its presence. The body must move and throw itself about, the eyes must roll, the hands should have no peace, and the throat should release all the yearning, despair and outrage that accompany the stupidity of loss.

It was the ghetto. I had seen them before from the high altitude of one who could look down and pity. Now I belonged here and the view was different. A first glance told it all. Here it was pennies and clutter and spittle on the curb... Here was the indefinable stink of despair. Here modesty was the luxury. People struggled for it... Here sensuality was escape, proof of manhood for people who could prove it no other way... Here hips drew the eye and flirted with the eye and caused the eye to lust or laugh. It was better to look at hips than at the ghetto.

It was the very discomfort, the blows, the cold, the thirst that kept us aloft in the void of bottomless despair, both during the journey and after. It was not the will to live, nor a conscious resignation; for few are the men capable of such resolution, and we were but a common sample of humanity.

It wont be much longer now and then there wont be anything left; we wont even have anything to do left, not even the privilege of walking backward slowly for a reason, for the sake of honor and what’s left of pride. Not God; evidently we have done without Him for four years, only He just didn’t think to notify us; and not only not shoes and clothing but not even any need for them, and not only no land nor any way to make food, but no need for the food since we have learned to live without that too; and so if you dont have God and you dont need food and clothes and shelter, there isn’t anything for honor and pride to climb on and hold to and flourish. And if you haven’t got honor and pride, then nothing matters. Only there is something in you that doesn’t care about honor and pride yet that lives, that even walks backward for a whole year just to live; that probably even when this is over and there is not even defeat left, will still decline to sit still in the sun and die, but will be out in the woods, moving and seeking where just will and endurance could not move it, grabbing for roots and such – the old mindless sentient undreaming meat that doesn’t even know any difference between despair and victory.

It would take me a few weeks outside that cycle of conflicts to realize that I am destined to be centerless, one lone flaming planet outside of a livable orbit. Opportunistically, I should like to present my definition of destiny: It is what I should have avoided but I dared not. It is what I wanted to embrace even when I saw in it my death. It is the seductive angels of fire and the celebrating djinns. It is what I must break ties with and commit apostasy.

Ivanov: I am a bad, pathetic and worthless individual. One needs to be pathetic, too, worn out and drained by drink, like Pasha, to be still fond of me and to respect me. My God, how I despise myself! I so deeply loathe my voice, my walk, my hands, these clothes, my thoughts. Well, isn't that funny, isn't that shocking? Less than a year ago I was healthy and strong, I was cheerful, tireless, passionate, I worked with these very hands, I could speak to move even Philistines to tears, I could cry when I saw grief, I became indignant when I encountered evil. I knew inspiration, I knew the charm and poetry of quiet nights when from dusk to dawn you sit at your desk or indulge you mind with dreams. I believed, I looked into the future as into the eyes of my own mother... And now, my God, I am exhausted, I do not believe, I spend my days and nights in idleness.

Ivanov: With a heavy head, with a slothful spirit, exhausted, overstretched, broken, without faith, without love, without a goal, I roam like a shadow among men and I don't know who I am, why I'm alive, what I want. And I now think that love is nonsense, that embraces are cloying, that there's no sense in work, that song and passionate speeches are vulgar and outmoded. And everywhere I take with me depression, chill boredom, dissatisfaction, revulsion from life... I am destroyed, irretrievably!

I walked back to the window to look down at the people who shared this city with me. The people who made every day a series of mediocrities. The unreformed murderers masquerading as businessmen in borrowed suits and debt-laden cars. The voluptuous bimbos floating around in an inexplicable mix of vacuity and despair. The crumbling face of my building looked pretty enough from across the street, but from here I could see how worn it was. I peeled off a satisfying chunk of paint, cement and matter. And I let it fall to the street below.

I wanted to tell her not to entertain despair like this. Despair wasn't a guest, you didn't play its favourite music, find it a comfortable chair. Despair was the enemy.

I wanted to be good but I wasn't sure if I was prepared

I will kill myself soon. But until then how do l tame my pain?

I wish I could help him. I wish I could help the dozens of other Sufferers - all the victims of wounds, maulings, burns, diseases, incipient malnutrition, and melancholic despair - aboard this entrapped ship and her sister ship. I wish I could help myself, for already I am showing the early signs of Nostalgia and Debility. But there is little that I - or any surgeon in the Year of Our Lord 1848 - can do. God help us all.

Life is cold; I will put on my clothes and wear my shoes

Life is cold, but I will put on my clothes and wear my shoes

Living by faith, living by hope.

Long have I dwelt forgotten here In pining woe and dull despair; This place of solitude and gloom Must be my dungeon and my tomb.

Living in a state of constant wistful despair, perhaps, will be my destiny, said the traveller. Longing to be touched by you, will perhaps, be mine, whispered back the horizon.

Look to the Lord in every situation.

Looking on the bright side of life is better than looking on the dark side of despair.

Look to the Lord and the power of His grace.

Lord save the suffering souls.

Lord heal the broken hearted.

Love, faith and hope can cure any ill-health.

Lost in time but now I am saved by grace.

Love, he thinks, is a lie that people tell each other in order to make the world bearable. He is not up for the lie anymore. And nobody is going to lie to him like that, anyway. He's not even worth a lie.

Love is for the faint of hearts. The emotionally depraved In need of something to make them feel safe.

Love was undoubtedly one of the things capable of changing a person's whole life, from one moment to the next. But there was the other side of the coin, the second thing that could make a human being take a totally different course from the one he or she had planned; and that was called despair. Yes, perhaps love really could transform someone, but despair did the job more quickly.

Love is splendid light.

Love. The word scared me. Love. The word broke me. I fell apart.

Man may fail you. But God will never forsake you.

Mândrie, nădejde, dorință, ca niște ierburi strivite în inima lui, înălțau aburii unei tămâi înnebunitoare către ochii minții. Alerga la vale în iureșul aburilor de mândrie rănită, nădejde pierdută și dorință contrariată, fără de veste stârniți. Țâșneau înalțându-se în fumuri dense și înnebunitoare dinaintea ochilor săi chinuiți și se risipiră deasupră-i , până când, în sfârșit, aerul fu iarăși limpede și rece.

Mawazo ya kukata tamaa yanaweza kusababisha tukamtengeneza au kumbuni tena Mungu kwa mfano wetu sisi wenyewe, mfano ambao kwa kawaida ni tofauti kabisa na mfano unaozungumzwa ndani ya Biblia. Hivyo tunaishia kutumikia mfano badala ya kumtumikia Mungu wa kweli.

May God give comfort to the suffering souls.

Maybe you out to go back there.' 'Can't. Gotta stay where... where I know what's what.' Where I don't forget what I am, and that I don't deserve anything better. Would wreck anything better. 'I Reckon that's what most of us think. But there's more strangers where you're from than in some sandland halfway around the world. And more strangers in your head than any place on the map.

May God protect us from every calamity.

May Lord revive and restore you to good health.

May the Lord heal the broken hearted.

May the weary soul find rest in the Lord.

May you find comfort and peace in every situation.

May you find comfort by reading and mediation on God’s word.

May your faith be firm.

May you find the strength to courageously live through any situation.

Merry’s mind devolved into chaos. Ideas evaded her. Words chased one another into meaningless jumbles. Her breath came in shallow gasps as the ghastly image of William’s lifeless body twisting in the wind, solidified and held.

Minus: Papa, I'm scared. When I was hugging Karin in the boat, reality burst open. Do you understand? David: I do. Minus: Reality burst open, and I tumbled out. It's like a dream. Anything can happen. Anything. David: I know. Minus: I can't live in this new world. David: Yes, you can. But you must have something to hold on to. Minus: What would that be? A god? Give me proof of God. You can't. David: Yes, I can. But you have to listen carefully. Minus: Yes, I need to listen. David: I can only give you a hint of my own hope. It is to know that love exists as something real in the human world. Minus: A special kind of love, I suppose? David: All kinds, Minus. The highest and the lowest, the most absurd and the most sublime. All kinds of love. Minus: And the longing for love? David: Longing and denial. Trust and distrust. Minus: Then love is the proof? David: I don't know if love is proof of God's existence, or if love is God himself. Minus: To you, love and God are the same thing. David: That thought helps me in my emptiness and despair. Minus: Tell me more, Papa. David: Suddenly the emptiness turns into abundance, and despair into life. It's like a reprieve, Minus, from a death sentence. Minus: Papa... If it is as you say, then Karin is surrounded by God, since we love her. David: Yes. Minus: Can that help her? David: I believe so. Minus: ... Papa, would you mind if I go for a run? David: Off you go. I'll make dinner. See you in an hour. Minus: ... Papa spoke to me.

Momentarily drained of lust, he stares at the remembered contortions to which it has driven him. His life seems a sequence of grotesque poses assumed to no purpose, a magic dance empty of belief. There is no God; Janice can die: the two thoughts come at once, in one slow wave. He feels underwater, caught in chains of transparent slime, ghosts of the urgent ejaculations he has spat into the mild bodies of women. His fingers on his knees pick at persistent threads.

Most times and in most circumstances, what hinders real progress is never anything big, but the small things we least regard that impede real thinking and action for progress!

Music — good music, great music — had a hard, irreducible purity to it. It might be bitter and despairing and pessimistic, but it could never be cynical. If music is tragic, those with asses’ ears accuse it of being cynical. But when a composer is bitter, or in despair, or pessimistic, that still means he believes in something.

Musa alipokuwa mlimani kupokea Amri Kumi za Mungu kwa ajili ya Wana wa Israeli alikawia sana kurudi, kiasi cha watu kukata tamaa na kujiona wapweke wakiwa njiani kuelekea katika Nchi ya Ahadi. Kutokana na woga usio na kifani na kukata huko kwa tamaa waliamua kutosubiri tena kusikia neno kutoka kwa Mungu, au kuiona sura halisi ya Mungu kama Musa alivyokuwa amewaahidi, hivyo wakamlazimisha Haruni awatengenezee mungu kutokana na taswira ambayo tayari walishakuwa nayo vichwani mwao kuhusu mungu waliyemtaka; yaani ndama wa dhahabu, au mungu mpya ambaye angewapa chochote walichotaka muda wowote waliotaka.

My love has saved me. It wraps strong arms around me when I cry with despair;it gives me the routine of a working week to lend vicarious structure to my shapeless days. It brings me daily laughter, a reason to keep washing...and it slices me open with guilt.

my mother died of an overdose of sleeping pills after extensive surgery so that the cause of death was probably listed as despair.