Best 1597 quotes in «despair quotes» category

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 one feels suddenly doomed by fate.

Sometimes patience is hard to distinguish from despair.

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, situation may be uncomfortable but must endure.

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!

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

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..

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?

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.

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.

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!

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

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

Suffocate despair with prayers.

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

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

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

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

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

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 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 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.

The driver, a black silhouette upon his box, whipped up his bony horses. Icy silence in the coach. Marius, motionless, his body braced in the corner of the carriage, his head dropping down upon his breast, his arms hanging, his legs rigid, appeared to await nothing now but a coffin; Jean Valjean seemed made of shadow, and Javert of stone.

The effects of overworking; You forget which day it is. You think fast than what you write.

The injured captain, lying in the bow, was at this time buried in that profound dejection and indifference which comes, temporarily at least, to even the bravest and most enduring when, willy nilly, the firm fails, the army loses, the ship goes down.

The fundamental fact about all of us is that we’re alive for a while but will die before long. This fact is the real root cause of all our anger and pain and despair. And you can either run from this fact or, by way of love, you can embrace it.

The government cannot control people's hearts, because it cannot meet every need of every citizen. But why does it rule? Not really! When the government rules the hearts of the people it will not exist, because the heart has a trait of despair and desparation.

The instinct that drives compulsion is universal. It is an attempt to solve the problem of disconnection, alienation, tepid despair... the problem is ultimately 'being human' in an environment that is curiously ill-equipped to deal with the challenges that entails.

The great GOD is a tower of refuge to the poor. The great GOD is a tower of refuge to the needy in distress.

The Ideal This is where I came from. I passed this way. This should not be shameful Or hard to say. A self is a self. It is not a screen. A person should respect What he has been. This is my past Which I shall not discard. This is the ideal. This is hard.

The LORD GOD is a shelter from the heat. The LORD GOD is a refuge from the storm.

The lead-up to the moment was magical in every respect, but a part of me was, and still is, uneasy about the whole thing for many reasons.

The longest path leads to the destiny destination.

The light in that room was a glow; I seem to remember the color green, or perhaps flowers. A pale green sheet covered his inert body but not his head, which lay (eyes closed, mouth set in a tense and terrible grimace) unmoving. Gianluca. Barely able to see, barely able to stand - my knees kept buckling – and breathing so quietly I thought that I, too, might die; that out of shock, I would just drift away, the shell of my body cracking open. No longer anchored by my brother’s love, I would be reabsorbed by sky. Gianluca. If there was never another sound in the world, I would understand – yes, that would be appropriate, it would be fitting. This was the antithesis of music, the antithesis of noise. My brother’s death seemed to demand silence of all the world. Gianluca.

The manifestation of physical victory was first won spiritually. Prayer is our greatest weapon!

The more she was absolutely in need of external friendship, the more disposed was she to reject it, and to declare to herself that she was prepared to stand alone in the world.