Abbi Glines Quotes

If we're all going to hell in a handbasket, we might as well make it a party on the way down

As a Scandinavian, I like hopelessness and the weird austerity in the hopelessness of things.

this is the upside of already being eternally damned

It is perfectly obvious that the whole world is going to hell. The only possible chance that it might not is that we do not attempt to prevent it from doing so.

Reality is a prison, where one vegetates and always will. All the rest - thought, action - is just a pastime, mental or physical. What counts then, is to come to grips with reality. The rest can go.

I don't care where I'm from, nor where I'm going. From hell to hell.

Let whatever is going to happen to me happen. I'm expecting the worst for myself and I'm resigned to it.

'Weary Willie' is very real to me. He is a man who has given up. The boat has gone and left him. The cards are stacked against him. He's content to make out with what he's got. He knows he'll go no further.

I agree to, or rather aspire to, my doom.

Suicide is man's way of telling God, 'You can't fire me - I quit.'

I do get cynical, but what can you do? It doesn't make any difference.

I do believe that I will see the apocalypse in my lifetime. And when it comes, I'm not repenting for anything I've done.

An intimate core of my being recognizes that there is nothing in me that can go on: there is no spark; there is no infestation of vaporous miasma that has the capacity to continue, and there is nothing in me that wishes to continue. This moment is, for me, all that there is, and I'm willing to accept it. I'm a worm; I have no soul.

I've reached the point where I hardly care whether I live or die. The world will keep on turning without me, and I can't do anything to change events anyway.

When the calamity we feared is already arrived, or when the expectation of it is so certain as to shut out hope, there seems to be a principle within us by which we look with misanthropic composure on the state to which we are reduced, and the heart sullenly contracts and accommodates itself to what it most abhorred.

It was over now, and the meaningless world was tolerable and need not be explained. And never would it be, and how foolish I had ever been to think so.

Shaw, we're going to die, aren't we?" Probably. Why?" Just wanted confirmation.

There is a certain freedom in giving up all hope. One is no longer bound by the cords of dread or fear; you simply move toward the inevitable without thinking on the consequences.

Things just happen. What the hell.

If I had to lay bets, my bet would be that everything is going to go to hell, but, you know, what else have we got except hope?

By this time I was no longer very much terrified or very miserable. I had, as it were, passed the limit of terror and despair. I felt now that my life was practically lost, and that persuasion made me capable of daring anything

Some people are beyond help, just accept that.

I've given up reading the papers. Since the world's so obviously bent on killing itself, I decided months ago to sit back and let it.

There was nothing in this world that was not a con, suddenly I understood this. Nothing really mattered, and nothing could be lost.

We don't have to convince people how screwed they are.