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Hopelessness Quotes

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Hopelessness Quotes

“To the bankrupt poet, to the jilted lover, to anyone who yearns to elude the doubt within and the din without, the tidal strait between Manhattan Island and her favorite suburb offers the specious illusion of easy death. Melville prepared for the plunge from the breakwater on the South Street promenade, Whitman at the railing of the outbound ferry, both men redeemed by some Darwinian impulse, maybe some epic vision, which enabled them to change leaden water into lyric wine. Hart Crane rejected the limpid estuary for the brackish swirl of the Caribbean Sea. In each generation, from Washington Irving’s to Truman Capote’s, countless young men of promise and talent have examined the rippling foam between the nation’s literary furnace and her literary playground, questioning whether the reams of manuscript in their Brooklyn lofts will earn them garlands in Manhattan’s salons and ballrooms, wavering between the workroom and the water. And the city had done everything in its power to assist these men, to ease their affliction and to steer them toward the most judicious of decisions. It has built them a bridge.”

“It is ignorance that is at times incomprehensible to the wise; for instance, he may not see 'the positive person' or 'the negative person' in such a black and white way as many people do. A wise man may not understand it because, as a catalyst of wisdom, but not always wise in his own eyes, even he can learn from and give back to fools. To think that an individual has absolutely nothing to offer to the table is counter-intuitively what the wise man considers to be 'the ignorance of hopelessness'.”

“I made a sorry face in response to such strong insistence, but I couldn’t believe him. Fantasies were exactly that―fantasies. Whimsy. Wishes. Mere castles in the sky without foundation or substance. Dreams didn’t come true. To believe so would be to believe falsely, to surrender to madness, to give in to an unreliable hope that would crush me once again as it always, always did!”

“You took my heart and you held it in your mouth And, with a word all my love came rushing out And, every whisper, it's the worst, emptied out by a single word There is a hollow in me now... And Every whisper, every sigh Eats away at this heart of mine And there is a hollow in me now. So I put my faith in something unknown I'm living on such sweet nothing But I'm trying to hope with nothing to hold I'm living on such sweet nothing.”

“I know how affected this sounds, but I want to die so bad I can’t stand it. From the time I was born, all I’ve ever thought about is dying. It would be better for everybody if I did—that’s clear enough. But I can’t seem to do it. Some strange kind of, fearsome kind of god keeps stopping me... My work means nothing. I have no masterpieces and no spectacular failures. If people say a piece is good, it’s good, and if they say it’s bad, it’s bad. It’s like breathing—in and out, in and out. What scares me is that, somewhere in this world, there is a God. There really is one, right?... There is a God, right?”

“It's a balancing act, keeping hope but not letting it drive you to distraction. Because the flip side of hope, the dark side, is the side that keeps you wanting to be somewhere else from where you are, with something else from what you've got-- the side that keeps you from appreciating and feeling fully and deeply what there is in this moment. Hope keeps us in the flow--moving forward-- and I will not underestimate its value, but hopelessness keeps us present in the moment, whether it is the Buddhist hopelessness of non-attachment or the hopelessness of despair.”

“I think there is a place where hopefulness and hopelessness co-exist, one of my beloved contradictory co-existing realities (what others call a paradox, but paradoxes can be mis-defined themselves, not owning their true contrari-ness and/or co-existence): something like joy-and-hope-in-the-process-of-being-and-becoming, something like awareness-of-distant-goals-without-attachment-to-getting-them, something like satisfaction-in-dissatisfaction. Like riding a roller coaster, being and feeling where it is and feeling where it's going all at the same time, since where it's going is part of where it is, and, whatever the now is, it will never stay there. Something like life.”

“The world as we know it, cruel, dark and hopeless, have gifted us one more reason why, as a species, shoud we accept the fact that we're living in absolute ignorance. One more chunk of food for our fears and desperations. One more nightmarish and haunting thought for our dreams.”

“Politically we feel alienated, rejected, and hopeless. The chasm between the people and their political representatives has widened to a terrifying degree. In a political vacuum we become increasingly vulnerable to a seizure from the far right. We know that the Snake is there but we are as paralyzed as the Rabbit. People are not rabbits, and America must shake off this nightmare and awake again. The middle classes must be organized for action, for claiming their rights and powers of citizenship in a free society. The organization must be committed to the values of a free and open society. The middle classes must begin to participate as citizens for those ideals which give meaning and purpose to life. Logic and faith go together as the opposite sides of the same shield. We know by our intelligence the greatness and desirability of a free and open society over all other alternatives. Logic tells us, "We'll believe it when we see it." But there is also the converse, faith. Faith, or belief in the people, tells us, "We'll see it when we believe it."”

“I wept for hours. For myself, for Tamlin, for the fact that I should be dead and had somehow survived. I cried for everything I'd lost, every injury I'd ever received, every wound- physical or otherwise. I cried for that trivial part of me, once so full of colour and light- now hollow and dark and empty. I couldn't stop. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't beat her. She won today and she had known it. She'd won; it was only by cheating that I'd survived. Tamlin would never be free, and I would perish in the most awful of ways. I couldn't read- I was an ignorant fool. My shortcomings had caught up with me, and this place would become my tomb. I would never paint again; never see the sun again. The walls closed in- the ceiling dropped. I wanted to be crushed; I wanted to be snuffed out. Everything converged, squeezing inward, sucking out air. I was grasping for my body, but it hurt too much each time I tried to maintain the connection. All I had wanted- all I had dared want, was a life that was quiet, easy. Nothing more than that. Nothing extraordinary. But now... now...”

“Our Ancestors knew that healing comes in cycles and circles. One generation carries the pain so that the next can live and heal. One cannot live without the other, each is the other's hope, meaning & strength.”