A Quote by Arthur Golden

You seemed so desperate, like you might drown if someone didn't save you. — © Arthur Golden
You seemed so desperate, like you might drown if someone didn't save you.
You might perhaps like to see the few canvases I was able to save from the bailiffs and the rest, since I thought you might be so good as to help me a little, as I am in quite a desperate state, and the worst is that I can no longer even work.
Football is based on desperation. All clubs are desperate in one form or another - desperate to succeed, desperate to survive, desperate to stay where they are, desperate that things get no worse, desperate to arrest the slide.
When someone is drowning and you try to save them, they're more likely to drown you before you pull them out.
Finding someone who's willing to drown with you creates a situation where you no longer want to drown.
When someone was willing to drown with me, I really didn't want to drown anymore.
She was like a drowning person, flailing, reaching for anything that might save her. Her life was an urgent, desperate struggle to justify her life.
You know, money will never save anyone. Compassion can save someone, love can save someone, money will never save anyone. And as long as the entire society will put money first... Money should be like third or fourth or fifth, I'm not saying lets get rid of money, but how can we put money as number one? As the only value, like if you are rich, you're famous you go VIP, why? It's just insane, the way we've transformed the society.
I got involved as an activist when I was in high school, around the Iraq war. That's how I got involved. It seemed like, OK, we're going to go to war. It doesn't seem like a good idea. Someone should do something. I'm looking around and, like, I am someone, and I might not be able to do everything, but I can do something.
In New York, everyone's desperate for success, desperate for money and desperate to be accepted, but in London they're more laid back about things like that.
We cling to words like drowning men to straws. But still we drown, we drown.
It seemed to me the basic definition of mental illness, this persistent, painful inability to simply be with someone else. It might be lifelong, or it might descend like a sudden catastrophe, this blankness between ourselves and the rest of the world. The blankness might not even be obvious to others. But on our side of that severed connection, it was hell, a life lived behind glass. The only difference between mild depression and severe schizophrenia was the amount of sound and air that seeped in.
She opened her mouth to answer, but he was already kissing her. She had kissed him so many times—soft gentle kisses, hard and desperate ones, brief brushes of the lips that said good-bye, and kisses that seemed to go on for hours—and this was no different. The way the memory of someone who had once lived in a house might linger even after they were gone, like a sort of psychic imprint, her body remembered Jace. Remembered the way he tasted, the slant of his mouth over hers, his scars under her fingers, the shape of his body under her hands.
I think when we think about the judgment of someone who might want World War III, we might think about someone who might shut down a bridge because they don't like their friends.
What is it like being single? I like it! I like starting each day with a sense of possibility. And I'm optimistic, because everyday I get a little more desperate. And desperate situations yield the quickest results.
Unless you are born into an army family, you are never quite prepared for life with someone from that background. These are people who are putting their lives on the line to protect the country and everyone in it, and to be married to someone like that seemed like a risk.
This is a call to action—not an action that will make things better in six months’ time or a year’s time, but action that might save someone’s life and someone’s future this afternoon, tonight, tomorrow morning.
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