Despair is the damp of hell, as joy is the serenity of heaven

Despair is the damp of hell, as joy is the serenity of heaven

If thou dost slander her and torture me,
Never pray more; abandon all remorse;
On horror's head read more

If thou dost slander her and torture me,
Never pray more; abandon all remorse;
On horror's head horrors accumulate;
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed;
For nothing canst thou to damnation add
Greater than that.

Above all, we must abolish hope in the heart of man. A calm despair, without angry convulsions, without reproaches to read more

Above all, we must abolish hope in the heart of man. A calm despair, without angry convulsions, without reproaches to Heaven, is the essence of wisdom.

O that this too too sullied flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew,
Or read more

O that this too too sullied flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew,
Or that the Everlasting had not fixed
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter.

Despair of ever being saved, "except thou be born again," or of
seeing God "without holiness," or of having read more

Despair of ever being saved, "except thou be born again," or of
seeing God "without holiness," or of having part in Christ except
thou "love him above father, mother, or thy own life." This kind
of despair is one of the first steps to heaven.

Despair is the price one pays for setting oneself an impossible aim. It is, one is told, the unforgivable sin, read more

Despair is the price one pays for setting oneself an impossible aim. It is, one is told, the unforgivable sin, but it is a sin the corrupt or evil man never practices. He always has hope. He never reaches the freezing-point of knowing absolute failure. Only the man of goodwill carries always in his heart this capacity for damnation.

Despair is the conclusion of fools.

Despair is the conclusion of fools.

Despair is like forward children, who, when you take away one of their playthings, throw the rest into the fire read more

Despair is like forward children, who, when you take away one of their playthings, throw the rest into the fire for madness. It grows angry with itself, turns its own executioner, and revenges its misfortunes on its own head.

The world goes whispering to its own,
"This anguish pierces to the bone;"
And tender friends go read more

The world goes whispering to its own,
"This anguish pierces to the bone;"
And tender friends go sighing round,
"What love can ever cure this wound?"
My days go on, my days go on.