John Milton Quotes

All hope abandon, ye who enter here!

I like dark, hopeless, beautiful tragedies.

I love bleak things.

Every night when I go to bed, I hope that I may never wake again, and every morning renews my grief.

Those who have no hope pass their old age shrouded with an inward gloom.

The Opera was a very cold film, a hopeless and dark film, no hope, no love.

The ending is one of my blackest, utterly without hope of any sort.

It seems as if life and hope must cease together.

It looked like everything worth living for was gone. The entire country was depressed -- there was no hope.

It seems to leave the darkness rather blacker than before.

When life is woe, and hope is dumb, the World says, "Go!" The Grave says, "Come!

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life or joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems; And e'en the dearest--that I love the best-- Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest.

Hope is a punishable offense. The verdict is always death; one more death of the heart.

Doom is dark and deeper than any sea-dingle.

Despair snuffs the sun from the firmament.

It doth not hurt", whispered a faint voice, "She will take you life and all you are and all you care'st for, and she will leave you with nothing but mist and fog. She'll take your joy. And one day you'll wake and your heart and soul will have gone. A husk you'll be, a wisp you'll be, and a thing no more than a dream on waking, or a memory of something forgotten.

Even every ray of hope destroyed and not a wish to gild the gloom.

It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.

So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn Which once he wore; The glory from his gray hairs gone For evermore!

The people I am most interested in are the ones on the edge of losing everything and falling into the last bit of despair. I'm trying to write about how people exist on that edge and how they can come back.

And then when all around grows dark, when we feel utterly alone, when all men right and left pass us by and know us not, a forgotten feeling rises in the breast.

If you start in the pit of despair with these profane, awful things, even a glimmer of hope or awareness is going to occur that's much brighter coming from this dark, awful beginning.

Waste brings woe, and sorrow hates despair.

But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.

Does the world have nothing inside but sorrow?