Desolate Quotes - Page 6

• Go home and say to yourself, ‘I am a wayward, foolish child. But He loves me! I have disobeyed and grieved Him ten thousand times. But He loves me! I have lost faith in some of my dearest friends and am very desolate. But He loves me! I do not love Him, I am even angry with Him! But He loves me!

  Elizabeth Prentiss

  Children, Home, Foolish

  Elizabeth Prentiss (1876). “Stepping Heavenward, and Aunt Jane's hero”, p.32

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• Where's the hope that can abate
  The grief of hearts thus desolate
  That can Youth's keenest pangs assuage,
  And mitigate the gloom of Age?
  Religion bids the tempest cease,
  And, leads her to a port of peace;
  And on, the lonely pilot steers
  Through the lapse of future years.

  Thomas Haynes Bayly

  Hope, Lonely, Grief

  Thomas Haynes Bayly (1844). “Songs, Ballads, and Other Poems”, p.103

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• I'll never stop wandering. And when the time comes to die, I'll find the wildest, loneliest, most desolate spot there is.

  Everett Ruess

  Spots, Wander, Dies

  Everett Ruess (1983). “Everett Ruess, a vagabond for beauty”

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• WE DASH THE BLACK RIVER, ITS flats smooth as stone. Not a ship, not a dinghy, not one cry of white. The water lies broken, cracked from the wind. This great estuary is wide, endless. The river is brackish, blue with the cold. It passes beneath us blurring. The sea birds hang above it, they wheel, disappear. We flash the wide river, a dream of the past. The deeps fall behind, the bottom is paling the surface, we rush by the shallows, boats beached for winter, desolate piers. And on wings like the gulls, soar up, turn, look back.

  James Salter

  Dream, Lying, Fall

  James Salter (2011). “Light Years”, p.3, Vintage

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• I have been thinking more and more that I shall always be a lone wanderer of the wilderness. God, how the trail lures me. You cannot comprehend its resistless fascination for me. After all, the lone trail is bestI'll never stop wandering. And when the time comes to die, I'll find the wildest, loneliest, most desolate spot there is.

  Everett Ruess

  Thinking, Fascination, Wilderness

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• There is a place on earth that is a vast desolate wilderness, a place populated by shadows of the dead in their multitudes, a place where the living are dead, where only death, hate and pain exist.

  Giuliana Tedeschi Brunelli

  Pain, Hate, Holocaust

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• None are so desolate but something dear, Dearer than self, possesses or possess'd A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.

  Lord Byron

  Self, Tears, Claims

  'Childe Harold's Pilgrimage' (1812-18) canto 2, st. 24

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• Oh! what waves of crime and bloodshed have swept like the waves of a deluge down the valley of the Rhine! War has laid his mailed hand on those desolate towers and ruthlessly torn down what time has spared, yet he could not mar the beauty of the shore, nor could Time himself hurl down the mountains that guard it.

  Bayard Taylor

  War, Hands, Mountain

  bayard taylor “views a-foot”

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• Leaves like rusty tin
  for the desolate mind that has seen the end-
  the barest glimmerings.
  Leaves aswirl with gulls
  made wild by winter.

  Giorgos Seferis

  Winter, Mind, Tin

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• As the moral gloom of the world overpowers all systematic gaiety, even so was their home of wild mirth made desolate amid the sad forest.

  Nathaniel Hawthorne

  Home, Systematic, Mirth

  Nathaniel Hawthorne (1998). “Young Goodman Brown and Other Tales”, p.143, Oxford University Press, USA

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• Half the walk is but retracing our steps. We should go forth on the shortest walk, perchance, in the spirit of undying adventure, never to return-prepared to send beck our embalmed hearts only as relics to our desolate kingdoms. If you are ready to leave father and mother, brother and sister, and wife and child and friends and never see them again,-if you have paid your debts and made your will, and settled your affairs and are a free man, then you are ready for a walk.

  Henry David Thoreau

  Mother, Brother, Children

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• And really, the reason we think of death in celestial terms is that the visible firmament, especially at night (above our blacked-out Paris with the gaunt arches of its Boulevard Exelmans and the ceaseless Alpine gurgle of desolate latrines), is the most adequate and ever-present symbol of that vast silent explosion.

  Vladimir Nabokov

  Death, Night, Thinking

  Vladimir Nabokov (2011). “The Stories of Vladimir Nabokov”, p.561, Vintage

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• "Ever since the religion of Islam appeared in the world, the espousers of it...have been as wolves and tigers to all other nations, rending and tearing all that fell into their merciless paws, and grinding them with their iron teeth; that numberless cities are raised from the foundation, and only their name remaining; that many countries, which were once as the garden of God, are now a desolate wilderness; and that so many once numerous and powerful nations are vanished from the earth! Such was, and is at this day, the rage, the fury, the revenge, of these destroyers of human kind".

  John Wesley

  Country, Powerful, Revenge

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• The story of the universe finally comes to an end. For the first time in its life, the universe will be permanent and unchanging. Entropy finally stops increasing because the cosmos cannot get any more disordered. Nothing happens, and it keeps not happening, forever. It's what's known as the heat-death of the universe. An era when the cosmos will remain vast and cold and desolate for the rest of time the arrow of time has simply ceased to exist. It's an inescapable fact of the universe written into the fundamental laws of physics, the entire cosmos will die.

  Brian Cox

  Law, Arrows, Forever

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