All Quotes with Person/Author Starting with D

He wrote to Connie with the same plaintive melancholy note as ever, sometimes witty, and touched with a queer, sexless affection. A kind of hopeless affection he seemed to feel for her, and the essential remoteness remained the same. He was hopeless at the very core of him, and he wanted to be hopeless. He rather hated hope. "Une immense espérance a traversé la terre", he read somewhere, and his comment was:"--and it's darned-well drowned everything worth having."

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Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.

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For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken.
It is so lovely, dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack.

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And then she realized that his presence was the wall, his presence was destroying her.

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I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.

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Anger or hatred is like a fisherman's hook. It is very important for us to ensure that we are not caught by this hook.




Damaged people are dangerous, they know they can survive.

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It's not like boyscout badges
nor are they medals of honor
my skin's my mother earth -
I'm just trying to exert some control upon her.

I don't think I'll make it to the end
of when this tug of war is over.
The give and take of slice and fake
a smile - my cheeks are sore and I'm not sober.

(all of these increasing scars
have become my prison bars)

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It's tragic; you tried to cut yourself in half,
But this isn't magic; in fact it's something much more dark, or more dramatic
Self harm, that's what they call it.
'Cause it just affects you.
It's your life, your body, so you can choose what you do,
And if one day you can't rein it in,
And of your last breath you are the only witness,
Then so be it, cause it's your last breath,
And it's nobody else's business.
But, how about your little sister?
I mean, you think your life's been bad,
And by no means am I belittling that,
'Cause I know the troubles you've had
But a teen finding out her big sister chose death over life,
Finding out instead of turning to her with your problems, You turned to a knife
That's a whole lot of pain to deal with,
And a whole lot of damage
And the only role model she has is little more than words engraved in granite.
But as you said before, this just affects you.
It's your life, your body, so you can choose what you do.
And if one day you can't rein it in,
And of your last breath you are the only witness,
Then so be it, cause it's your last breath,
And it's nobody else's business.
But then, how about your parents?
God knows they've done all they can to support.
Yeah, you didn't go up in a mansion,
But they gave you the best life they could afford,
And the second that last bit of life tickles out,
and your...




So much of what we live goes on inside-
The diaries of grief, the tongue-tied aches
Of unacknowledged love are no less real
For having passed unsaid. What we conceal
Is always more than what we dare confide.
Think of the letters that we write our dead.

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The darkness is death - we can speak, but we are not heard. We can scream but they turn their backs. We can run, but we cannot catch them. It is the dream where arms and legs won't work they way they should, and the air is too thick to breathe. Loved ones walk a mile ahead, forgetting to stop as we fall behind. This is the reality of the darkness. We are buried alive inside ourselves.

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There is no refuge from confession but suicide, and suicide is confession.

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(In quella parte del libro de la mia memoria dinanzi a la quale poco si potrebbe leggere, si trova una rubrica la quale dice: Incipit vita nova.)

In that part of the book of my memory before which little can be read, there is a heading, which says: 'Incipit vita nova: Here begins the new life'.

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Nessun maggior dolore
        Che ricordarsi del tempo felice
          Nella miseria.

(There is no greater sorrow
  Than to be mindful of the happy time
    In misery.)

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Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
        Mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,
          Che la diritta via era smarrita.

(In the midway of this our mortal life,
  I found me in a gloomy wood, astray,
    Gone from the path direct.)

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