All Quotes By Tag: Despair

“The Wind Will Carry UsIn my night, so brief, alasThe wind is about to meet the leaves.My night so brief is filled with devastating anguishHark! Do you hear the whisper of the shadows?This happiness feels foreign to me.I am accustomed to despair.Hark! Do you hear the whisper of the shadows?There, in the night, something is happeningThe moon is red and anxious.And, clinging to this roofThat could collapse at any moment,The clouds, like a crowd of mourning women,Await the birth of the rain.One second, and then nothing.Behind this window,The night tremblesAnd the earth stops spinning.Behind this window, a strangerWorries about me and you.You in your greenery,Lay your hands – those burning memories –On my loving hands.And entrust your lips, replete with life’s warmth,To the touch of my loving lipsThe wind will carry us!The wind will carry us!”

“In the midst of happiness or despairin sorrow or in joyin pleasure or in pain:Do what is right and you will be at peace.”

“It is almost as if happiness is an acquired taste, like coconut cordial or ceviche, to which you can eventually become accustomed, but despair is something surprising each time you encounter it.”

“And I despise your books, I despise wisdom and the blessings of this world. It is all worthless, fleeting, illusory, and deceptive, like a mirage. You may be proud, wise, and fine, but death will wipe you off the face of the earth as though you were no more than mice burrowing under the floor, and your posterity, your history, your immortal geniuses will burn or freeze together with the earthly globe.”

“It is a curious thing, but as one travels the world getting older and older, it appears that happiness is easier to get used to than despair. The second time you have a root beer float, for instance, your happiness at sipping the delicious concoction may not be quite as enormous as when you first had a root beer float, and the twelfth time your happiness may be still less enormous, until root beer floats begin to offer you very little happiness at all, because you have become used to the taste of vanilla ice cream and root beer mixed together. However, the second time you find a thumbtack in your root beer float, your despair is much greater than the first time, when you dismissed the thumbtack as a freak accident rather than part of the scheme of a soda jerk, a phrase which here means “ice cream shop employee who is trying to injure your tongue,” and by the twelfth time you find a thumbtack, your despair is even greater still, until you can hardly utter the phrase “root beer float” without bursting into tears. It is almost as if happiness is an acquired taste, like coconut cordial or ceviche, to which you can eventually become accustomed, but despair is something surprising each time you encounter it.”

“In search of Truth the hopeful zealot goes,But all the sadder tums, the more he knows!”

“Knowing the Techniques of Survival……..Our fears and anxieties will often drive us to build impenetrable walls that act like blinders deflecting others and preventing us from seeing who surrounds us. Getting focused to the things that matter are the Key to what has to be to COMPLETE our MISSION. “I Had Every Excuse to Fail but I Chose None” Speak Life!!!(sky)”

“And now, for something completely the same:Wasted time and wasted breath,’s what I’ll make, until my death.Helping people ‘d be as good,but I wouldn’t, if I could.For the few that help deserve,have no need, or not the nerve,help from strangers to accept,plus from mine a few have wept.Wept from joy, or from despair,or just from my vengeful stare.Ways I have, to look at stupid,make them see I am not Cupid.Make them see they are in error,for of truth I am a bearer.Most decide I’m just a bear,mauling at them, – like I care.”

“MOTHER IS WATERI wish I couldShower your head with flowersAnd anoint your feet with my tears,For I know I have caused youSo much heartache, frustration and despair –Throughout my youthful years.I wish I could give youThe remainder of my lifeTo add to yours,Or simply eraseThe lines on your face,And mend all that has been torn.For next to God,You are the fireThat has given lightTo the flame in each of my eyes.You are the fountainThat nourished my growth,And from your chalice –Gave me life.Without the wetness of your love,The fragrance of your water,Or the trickling sounds ofYour voice,I shall always feelthirsty.”

“And in despair I bowed my head;”There is no peace on earth,” I said;”For hate is strong,And mocks the songOf peace on earth, good-will to men!”Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:”God is not dead, nor doth he sleep!The Wrong shall fail,the Right prevail,With peace on earth, good-will to men!”

“Tell me something. Do you believe in God?’Snow darted an apprehensive glance in my direction. ‘What? Who still believes nowadays?”It isn’t that simple. I don’t mean the traditional God of Earth religion. I’m no expert in the history of religions, and perhaps this is nothing new–do you happen to know if there was ever a belief in an…imperfect God?”What do you mean by imperfect?’ Snow frowned. ‘In a way all the gods of the old religions were imperfect, considered that their attributes were amplified human ones. The God of the Old Testament, for instance, required humble submission and sacrifices, and and was jealous of other gods. The Greek gods had fits of sulks and family quarrels, and they were just as imperfect as mortals…”No,’ I interrupted. ‘I’m not thinking of a god whose imperfection arises out of the candor of his human creators, but one whose imperfection represents his essential characteristic: a god limited in his omniscience and power, fallible, incapable of foreseeing the consequences of his acts, and creating things that lead to horror. He is a…sick god, whose ambitions exceed his powers and who does not realize it at first. A god who has created clocks, but not the time they measure. He has created systems or mechanisms that serves specific ends but have now overstepped and betrayed them. And he has created eternity, which was to have measured his power, and which measures his unending defeat.’Snow hesitated, but his attitude no longer showed any of the wary reserve of recent weeks:’There was Manicheanism…”Nothing at all to do with the principles of Good and Evil,’ I broke in immediately. ‘This god has no existence outside of matter. He would like to free himself from matter, but he cannot…’Snow pondered for a while:’I don’t know of any religion that answers your description. That kind of religion has never been…necessary. If i understand you, and I’m afraid I do, what you have in mind is an evolving god, who develops in the course of time, grows, and keeps increasing in power while remaining aware of his powerlessness. For your god, the divine condition is a situation without a goal. And understanding that, he despairs. But isn’t this despairing god of yours mankind, Kelvin? Is it man you are talking about, and that is a fallacy, not just philosophically but also mystically speaking.’I kept on:’No, it’s nothing to do with man. man may correspond to my provisional definition from some point of view, but that is because the definition has a lot of gaps. Man does not create gods, in spite of appearances. The times, the age, impose them on him. Man can serve is age or rebel against it, but the target of his cooperation or rebellion comes to him from outside. If there was only a since human being in existence, he would apparently be able to attempt the experiment of creating his own goals in complete freedom–apparently, because a man not brought up among other human beings cannot become a man. And the being–the being I have in mind–cannot exist in the plural, you see? …Perhaps he has already been born somewhere, in some corner of the galaxy, and soon he will have some childish enthusiasm that will set him putting out one star and lighting another. We will notice him after a while…”We already have,’ Snow said sarcastically. ‘Novas and supernovas. According to you they are candles on his altar.”If you’re going to take what I say literally…’…Snow asked abruptly:’What gave you this idea of an imperfect god?”I don’t know. It seems quite feasible to me. That is the only god I could imagine believing in, a god whose passion is not a redemption, who saves nothing, fulfills no purpose–a god who simply is.”

“She wanted to lose herself in him. To tie his arms around her like a tourniquet.If she showed him how much she needed him, he’d run away.”

“He looked at her as a man might look at a faded flower he had plucked, in which it was difficult for him to trace the beauty that had made him pick and so destroy it”

“He opened his mouth. The words were there. He was about to say them when a jolt of terror went through him, the terror of someone who, wandering in a mist, pauses only to realise that they have stopped inches from the edge of a gaping abyss. The way she was looking at him – she could read what was in his eyes, he realised. It must have been written plainly there, like words on the page of a book. There had been no time, no chance, to hide it.“Will,” she whispered. “Say something, Will.”But there was nothing to say. There was only emptiness, as there had been before her. As there would always be.’I have lost everything’, Will thought. ‘Everything.”

“How could I have been so ignorant? she thinks. So stupid, so unseeing, so given over to carelessness. But without such ignorance, such carelessness, how could we live? If you knew what was going to happen, if you knew everything that was going to happen next—if you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions—you’d be doomed. You’d be as ruined as God. You’d be a stone. You’d never eat or drink or laugh or get out of bed in the morning. You’d never love anyone, ever again. You’d never dare to.”