Richelle Mead Quotes

When hope is gone, time is punishment.

But by the time that I had nothing left, I myself was the lightest thing of all for fate to get rid of.

When I said the city would be stronger, I didn't know that. I just hoped it. There are parts of you that say, 'Maybe we're not going to get through this.' You don't listen to them.

I am of the opinion, and even more so the older I get, that it is more difficult to have hope than it is to despair. And I mean this in the sense that in order to have hope you must acknowledge the despair and then you have to get beyond it. Taken from a radio interview given on BBC Radio 4's Open Book

There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer willing to be plunged into the abyss of despair.

The soul does not give itself up to despair until it has exhausted all illusions.

I think maybe everyone falls... I think the asking is whether we get back up again.

Keep walking. Hot night right now, right here. All you have is what you are. All you want is much too much. All you get is so much less. All you feel is nothing. All you see is darkness. All you know is senseless and all you can do about it is ride.

If we lose our hope, that's our real disaster!

I was never crippled until I lost hope.

It takes far less courage to kill yourself than it takes to wake up one more time. It is harder to stay where you are than to get out.

When all hopes are lost, only then does reality acquire that sharp focus that defines who we are and what we have become.

I think about giving up. I almost do.

I have spent my life falling. Not the kind that Tiny's talking about. He's talking about love. I'm talking about life. In my kind of falling, there's no landing. There's only hitting the ground. Hard. Dead, or wanting to be dead. So the whole time you're falling, it's the worst feeling in the world. Because you feel you have no control over it. Because you know how it ends.

It's the hope for all the hopeless in the worst of trying times.

Until the day when, your endurance gone, in this world for you without arms, you catch up in yours the first mangy cur you meet, carry it for the time needed for it to love it and you it, then throw it away.

How can one not succumb and allow one's courage to fail when everything is shut tight, when all meaningful things are walled up, and when you constantly knock against bricks, as against the walls of a prison?

Weave me a rope from this dark despair, from this dull-eyed pain... Weave me a rope from this endless night, from this distant shore... Weave me a rope that will pull me through these impossible times.

The most wretched have yet hope.

I shall show the cinders of my spirits Through the ashes of my chance.

Don't let the bastards grind you down. I repeat this to myself but it conveys nothing. You might as well say, Don't let there be air; or Don't be. I suppose you could say that.

For perfect hope is achieved on the brink of despair, when instead of falling over the edge, we find ourselves walking on air.