I don't ever remember a single day of hopelessness. I knew from the history of the labor movement, especially of the black people, that it was an undertaking of great trial. That, live or die, I had to stick with it, and we had to win.
I didn't really want to live, so anything that was an investment in time made me angry... but also I just felt sad. When the hopelessness is hurting you, it's the fixtures and fittings that finish you off.
Hopelessness is a feeling. It's not a fact.
Participation in and of itself is an act against hopelessness. Speaking up is a gesture against hopelessness.
Loss of hope rather than loss of life is what decides the issues of war. But helplessness induces hopelessness.
Helplessness induces hopelessness, and history attests that loss of hope and not loss of lives is what decides the issue of war.
Some of my memories will never return. They are lost - along with the crippling feeling of defeat and hopelessness. Not a tremendous price to pay.
Nothing prompts creativity like poverty, a feeling of hopelessness, and a bit of panic.
What too few people mention when discussing crime is the degree to which concentrated poverty, hopelessness and despair are the chambermaids of violence and incivility.
Few years ago when I visited a palliative care centre in Chennai for the first time, it completely moved me. It's an emotionally draining experience. I saw and met patients who were abandoned by their families, and there is complete sense of hopelessness. Ever since, I have been a supporter for the need for funding and awareness of palliative care.
