#pele

So one must be resigned to being a clock that measures the passage of time, now out of order, now repaired, and whose mechanism generates despair and love as soon as its maker sets it going? Are we to grow used to the idea that every man relives ancient torments, which are all the more profound because they grow comic with repetition? That human existence should repeat itself, well and good, but that it should repeat itself like a hackneyed tune, or a record a drunkard keeps playing as he feeds coins into the jukebox... ↗

— Stanisław Lem

#cycles #despair #emotion #fear #free-will

I keep forgetting you’re technologically challenged. ↗

— Colleen Hoover

#dean-holder #hopeless #sky-and-holder #sky-davis #technology

[A] person whose head is bowed and whose eyes are heavy cannot look at the light. ↗

— Christine de Pizan

#eyes #grief #hope #hopelessness #light

One should . . . be able to see things as hopeless and yet be determined to make them otherwise. ↗

— F. Scott Fitzgerald

#hopelessness

My eyes trail from his hand to the tattoo written in small script across his forearm. Hopeless ↗

— Colleen Hoover

#sky #hopelessness

Dean Holder? Messy brown hair? Smoldering blue eyes? A temper straight out of Fight Club? ↗

— Colleen Hoover

#hopelessness

Does not-your boyfriend realize I'm Mormon?" I nod. "It turns out, Holder doesn't have an issue with Mormons at all. He just has an issue with assholes. ↗

— Colleen Hoover

#holder #sky #hopelessness

Sometimes you have to choose between a bunch of wrong choices and no right ones. You just have to choose which wrong choices feels the least wrong. ↗

— Colleen Hoover

#hopelessness

You probably faked passing out the other day, just so you could be carried in my hot, sweaty, manly arms. ↗

— Colleen Hoover

#sky #hopelessness

I’ll tell you another secret, this one for your own good. You may think the past has something to tell you. You may think that you should listen, should strain to make out its whispers, should bend over backward, stoop down low to hear its voice breathed up from the ground, from the dead places. You may think there’s something in it for you, something to understand or make sense of. But I know the truth: I know from the nights of Coldness. I know the past will drag you backward and down, have you snatching at whispers of wind and the gibberish of trees rubbing together, trying to decipher some code, trying to piece together what was broken. It’s hopeless. The past is nothing but a weight. It will build inside of you like a stone. Take it from me: If you hear the past speaking to you, feel it tugging at your back and running its fingers up your spine, the best thing to do—the only thing—is run. ↗

— Lauren Oliver

#past #hopelessness