#desperation

...don't you realize a flawless profile means nothing when a mere smile drives me to desperation? Don't you covet that power?.. ↗

— John Geddes

#desperation #love #power #smile #beauty

Man cries, his tears dry up and run out. So he becomes a devil, reduced to a monster. ↗

— Kohta Hirano

#desperation #good-and-bad #good-and-evil #grief #hopelessness

For weeks Tyrone thought he was going to die any minute, and there were also times when he was afraid he wasnt going to die. ↗

— Hubert Selby Jr.

#desperation #suicide #dreams

I went down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn't, So I jumped in and sank. ↗

— Langston Hughes

#desperation #drowning #poetry #suicide #death

A—ris—ta?” Degan asked, sounding horse. “What is it?” “A rat bit me,” she said, once again shocked by her own rasping voice. “Jasper does that if—” Gaunt coughed and hacked. After a moment, he spoke again. “If he thinks you’re dead or too weak to fight.” “Jasper?” “I call him that, but I’ve also named the stones in my cell.” “I only counted mine,” Arista said. “Two hundred and thirty-four,” Degan replied instantly. “I have two hundred and twenty-eight.” “Did you count the cracked ones as two?” “No. ↗

— Michael J. Sullivan

#humor #prisoners #humor

I feel like getting married, or committing suicide, or subscribing to L'Illustration. Something desperate, you know. ↗

— Albert Camus

#humor #death

When you're at the end of your rope, tie a knot and hold on ↗

— Theodore Roosevelt

#desperation #hope #inspiration #misattributed #tenacity

The thing about living alone is that it gives you a lot of time to think. You don't necessarily reach any conclusions, because wisdom is largely a function of intelligence and self-awareness, not time on your hands. But you do become very good at thinking yourself into endless loops of desperation in half the time it would take a normal person. ↗

— Jonathan Tropper

#desperation #thinking #thoughts #wisdom #intelligence

At 6:15 she was standing on her front porch watering gardenias and watching another line of thunderstorms split and go around her. The same thing happened almost every day. Some days they came so close all she could smell was the rain. The wind whipped up dust from the fields until it drove like buckshot into the shuddering mesquites, and Clara Nell started to pray. 'Jesus,' she whispered. 'Jesus, Jesus....' But the only thing that came out of the sky was her topsoil. Every day the wind took a little more, and it hadn't rained in almost a year. ↗

— Andrew Geyer

#drought #emotional-pain #farming #heat #rural-life

Just those three words, said and meant. I love you. They were quite hopeless. He said it as he might have said, I have cancer. His fairy story. ↗

— John Fowles

#hopelessness #love #love