I will indulge my sorrows, and give way to all the pangs and fury of despair.

Then my verse I dishonor, my pictures despise, my person degrade and my temper chastise; and the pen is my terror, the pencil my shame; and my talents I bury, and dead is my fame.

Despair gives courage to a coward.

To those who despair of everything reason cannot provide a faith, but only passion, and in this case it must be the same passion that lay at the root of the despair, namely humiliation and hatred.

Despair is the only genuine atheism.

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.

The depth of our despair measures what capability and height of claim we have to hope.

In a real dark night of the soul it is always three o clock in the morning, day after day.

Now, God be praised, that to believing souls gives light in darkness, comfort in despair.

The person who lives by hope will die by despair.