Despair Quotes - Page 3

She was part of the machine she tended, and every faculty that was not needed for the machine was doomed to be crushed out of existence.

We’re miserable because we think that we are mere individuals, alone with our fears and flaws and resentments and mortality. We wrongly believe that our limited little egos constitute our whole entire nature. We have failed to recognize our deeper divine character. We don’t realize that, somewhere within us all, there does exist a supreme Self who is eternally at peace. That supreme Self is our true identity, universal and divine. Before you realize this truth... you will always be in despair.

Adding to my emotional dizziness on Sunday, I spoke with my sister, who kept noting how amazing Michael is, and what a brave and selfless man he is for having helped as he did.

Uncle said, "If love would save him, wouldn't no harm come to him.

Hope says: one dayyou will see her, if you will only wait.Despair says:all you have left of her is your bitterness.Beat, heart…The earthhas not swallowed everything.

Despair leads to distress.

Keep trusting God. He will lead you in every step of the journey.

It is the capacity to feel consuming grief and pain and despair that also allows me to embrace love and joy and beauty with my whole heart. I must let it all in.

Never give up on your existence.Never give up on your dreams.Never give up on your love.

He pried Clara's arms loose and stood up, smoothing his wrinkled coat. Clara looked straight into his face. Her eyelids were red, but her gaze was like a lance. Dr. Wintermute had a sudden, uncomfortable conviction that she had seen into his soul. It was a look he was to remember often in the weeks to come.

Seeing the mud around a lotus is pessimism, seeing a lotus in the mud is optimism.

For the normal man, life is an undisputed reality; only the sick man is delighted by life and praises it so that he won't collapse.

Alice leaned first one way and then the other, down the line of children. She said, Is everybody understanding this?"One child said, "The misuse of power is the root of all evil?"Alice said, "Well...."Another child said, "There is no justice on the earth?"Alice said, "Well..."Another child said, "We are all alone in the world?"Alice said, "Well..."Another child said, "The greatest depth of our loss is the beginning of true freedom?"Alice said, "Well..."Another child said, "The disposal of human waste is the responsibility of the brokenhearted?"These were all phrases Alice had put on the chalkboard after other field trips. It occurred to Alice, hearing these phrases now, that she might have attempted to do too much with a class of fourth graders. She was willing to admit to some excesses.Alice said, "Just listen.

By seeing the multitude of people around it, by being busied with all sorts of worldly affairs, by being wise to the ways of the world, such a person forgets himself, in a divine sense forgets his own name, dares not believe in himself, finds being himself too risky, finds it much easier and safer to be like the others, to become a copy, a number, along with the crowd. Now this form of despair goes practically unnoticed in the world. Precisely by losing oneself in this way, such a person gains all that is required for a flawless performance in everyday life, yes, for making a great success out of life. Here there is no dragging of the feet, no difficulty with his self and its infinitizing, he is ground smooth as a pebble, as exchangeable as a coin of the realm. Far from anyone thinking him to be in despair, he is just what a human being ought to be. Naturally, the world has generally no understanding of what is truly horrifying.

I would like to explode, flow, crumble into dust, and my disintegration would be my masterpiece.

Science cannot disprove god. Science studies the things that are. The eternal question is who or what made them to be

The pessimist may call the optimist a fool; but who is more foolish, the happy individual who expects more happiness or the one who fills his life with bitterness and has only more despair to look forward to?

Grumble weakens the spirit.Despair is counterproductive.Both are true toxicants in life.

Help me,” I sobbed. “I beg you, help me.” My eyes burned, butno tears came. I had lost the basic human ability to weep. Human…Iam no longer human. “Destroy me. Take pity and send me on my way.

The secret tugs at my sleeve.A child looking for attention.It is not a big secret.But it is not the only one either.“Strength in numbers” they say.For they are many.Many little things that – together –weigh tonnes.And take up space.And are quite noisy.The way only a lot of whispers can make noise.And they follow me.Little secretsof omission, desire,and denial.Of indulgence, hedonism,and exploration.Of peeves, passion,and deep-seated fear.Little secretsof despairanddisrepairandprohibited thoroughfare.

Never complain, proclaim positive-words.Then, you will possess the divine grace for a change situation.

the secret of survival was to balance hope and despair

Only God can set the soul in bondage free.

She was half running away from the hall, and she knew that she had done something cataclysmic, and she wanted nothing more than to be swallowed up by the darkness and to disappear forever.

I had wanted to disappear, if only so the cancer could disappear with me. But the stars whispered that there was no such thing. You don’t ever disappear. You just change. You leave. You move on. But you never disappear. Even when you think you want to.

Losing your life is not the worst thing that can happen. The worst thing is to lose your reason for living.

It is difficult to write a paradiso when all the superficial indications are that you ought to write an apocalypse.

It seemed to Rosa Lublin that the whole peninsula of Florida was weighted down with regret. Everyone had left behind a real life. Here they had nothing. They were all scarecrows, blown about under the murdering sunball with empty ribcages.

What is unbelief but the despair, dictated by the dominant powers, that nothing can really change?

Seek the truth.

If she allowed herself to give in to the whole sadness of it, she'd never ever be able to operate like a normal person again.

If you response to every demand, you will be in despair.

When we have graciously endured every adversity, we become like a shining diamond.

Now, I believe in life, and I believe in the joy of human existence, but these things cannot be experienced except as we also face the despair, also face the anxiety that every human being has to face if he lives with any creativity at all.

If you can cope the pride when winning,then you can confront despair when lose.

Despair is so familiar to me; it could be banished by the sight of a beautiful mannekin in the window. It could be dispelled by the lights surrounding a tower. It would be lifted by the great ghostly shape of St. Patrick's coming into view. And then despair would come again. Meaningless, I almost said, aloud.

Depression is the flaw in love. To be creatures who love, we must be creatures who can despair at what we lose, and depression is the mechanism of that despair.

Though he plunged into work as another man might have plunged into dissipation, to drown the thought of her, you could see that he had no longer any interest in it; he no longer loved it. He attacked it with a fury that had more hate in it than love.

For anything worth accomplishing, we can always find reasons to doubt, just as we can also find reasons to proceed...I have chosen to side with faith and hope over doubt and despair.

Sandra had studied psychiatry in order to understand the nature of despair, but all she had really learned was the pharmacology of it. The human mind was easier to medicate than to comprehend.

Only God can save every soul.

You are a wonderful sacred-soul.

You shall overcome every limitation and soar high on Eagle’s wing.

Acknowledge that some moments are just plain awful―desperate and gloomy and painful and miserable and nothing at all but anguish. No truthful, cheerful thought in the world will fix it. So let me cry awhile. Don't try to find a sunbeam where a shroud of darkness encloses me. Let me mourn. Then, after the storm, when the tears have run dry and my eyes choose to open, I will look for your rainbow of hope.

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.

There is hope for you.

A desperate soul needs a good and inspiring music

But she knew, though very vaguely, that she was crying, because hope hurts terribly when it breaks through the resignation in which you have lived for days.

Beyond the limit of pain, it is longer painful.

I think if Eternity held torment, its form would not be fiery rack, nor its nature, despair. I think that on a certain day amongst those days which never dawned, and will not set, an angel entered Hades — stood, shone, smiled, delivered a prophecy of conditional pardon, kindled a doubtful hope of bliss to come, not now, but at a day and hour unlooked for, revealed in his own glory and grandeur the height and compass of his promise: spoke thus — then towering, became a star, and vanished into his own Heaven. His legacy was suspense — a worse boon than despair.

Do not let your hearts be overwhelmed by adversity. May you have the strength, hope and courage to overcome the situation.

After losing faith, even an atheist feels a yawning void in his soul that needs filling; there is nothing imaginable that he can fill with it. It was all along meant to be filled with the sacred, with the unknown and unknowable power. That's the curse or blessing of humanity

Just as the weak, despairing person is unwilling to hear anything about any consolation eternity has for him, so a person in such despair does not want to hear anything about it, either, but for a different reason: this very consolation would be his undoing; as a denunciation of all existence. Figuratively speaking, it is as if an error slipped into an author's writing and the error became conscious of itself as an error; perhaps it actually was not a mistake but in a much higher sense an essential part of the whole production, and now this error wants to mutiny against the author, out of hatred toward him, forbidding him to correct it and in maniacal defiance saying to him: No! I refuse to be erased! I will stand as a witness against you; a witness that you are a second-rate author.

I slept and I woke. She gave me a ring made from a leaf, a cluster of golden berries, a flower that opened and closed at the stroking of a finger....And once, when I startled awake with my face wet and my chest aching, she reached out to lay her hand on top of mine. The gesture was so tentative, her expression so anxious, you would think she had never touched a man before. As if she was worried I might break or burn or bite. Her cool hand lay on mine for a moment, gentle as a moth. She squeezed my hand softly, waited, then pulled away.It struck me as odd at the time. But I was too clouded with confusion and grief to think clearly. Only now, looking back, do I realize the truth of things. With all the awkwardness of a young lover, she was trying to comfort me, and she didn't have the slightest idea how.

He looks forlornly ahead of him, gazing at the road but looking at nothing in particular. The whole world is one big giant ball of light to him, and he feels like a bug inside it, waiting to be squashed. He feels like there is no sense of purpose, no direction. There is nothing waiting for him at the end of the rainbow. No pot of gold for all the pain he is feeling now, or the pain he has felt before. He just feels empty and lost, as if he is looking for something that can never be found. He feels lost that he can’t explain it to anyone and that no one will understand. He feels left out, standing alone, waiting endlessly for a ray of hope which never comes. He has suffered through this before, lurking in the shadows of his own despair, fighting for his life and losing the battle. But nothing ever makes this pain go away. Or the fear. He doesn’t fear what people fear. Not the loss of life or riches—Roman fears losing himself in this swamp called existence. He fears becoming the person he doesn’t want to become, and most of all, he fears himself. Fears his own potential to destroy and destruct. To obliterate. To suffocate his own life. He fears all that and he is afraid no one will ever know what his heart aches for, or how bad he has it. At times he feels the urge to tell this to someone, but other times he just enjoys being silent, watching on like a passerby at his own life, an observer rather than someone who’s actually living it.

But I did feel the vertigo of death’s invitation, beckoning me towards the dark waters below. Only a newfound perspective and desire steadied my wavering soul. I came to realize, just in time, that suicide was far too easy – and obscenely cowardly – after someone I knew, not even half my age, had been through so much worse and still marched gloriously on.

As for hobbies, people with stimulating hobbies suffer from the most noxious of despairs since they are tranquilized in their despair.

And so, when the chips are down, I must say, though not without a sense of repugnance, that if you wish to show your belief in democracy, you also have to do so when you are in the minority, convinced both intellectually and, not least, in your innermost self, that the majority, in the name of democracy, is crushing everything you stand for and that means something to you, indeed, all that gives you the strength to endure, well, that gives a kind of meaning to your life, something that transcends your own fortuitous lot, one might say. When the heralds of democracy roar, triumphantly bawling out their vulgar victories day after day so that it really makes you suffer, as in my own case, you still have to accept it; I will not let anything else be said about me, he thought.

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

How can I be lost, if I've got nowhere to go?