A Quote by Henry Rollins

I cling to my memories of glorious desperation. — © Henry Rollins
I cling to my memories of glorious desperation.
To worry is to become accessible, unwittingly accessible. And once you worry you cling to anything out of desperation; and once you cling you are bound to get exhausted or to exhaust whoever or whatever you are clinging to.
Glorious the northern lights astream; Glorious the song, when God's the theme; Glorious the thunder's roar: Glorious hosanna from the den; Glorious the catholic amen; Glorious the martyr's gore.
If you give a discount there's a desperation there and I like to substitute desperation with service and real quality. And the desperation goes away.
I don't hoard things and I don't cling to memories.
Strange how when you're young you have no memories...Then one day you wake up and BOOM, memories overpower all else in your life, forever making the present moment seem sad and unable to compete with a glorious past that now has a life of its own.
Books are like flypaper, memories cling to the printed pages better than anything else.
The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation.
There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.
...desperation can toy with you and if you give desperation any wiggle room, it will find alternative answers
There is only one courage and that is the courage to go on dying to the past, not to collect it, not to accumulate it, not to cling to it. We all cling to the past and because we cling to the past we become unavailable to the present.
I'm attached to my children with whatever flaws they have, and if some glorious angel broke through the living room ceiling and offered to exchange them for other, better children, I'd cling to my kids and pray away this specter.
Tottenham was my first international club. I spent four glorious years there, and the fans were brilliant with me. I only have good memories.
Christmas is a glorious time of the year, simple in origin, deep in meaning, beautiful in tradition and custom, rich in memories, and charitable in spirit.
In my photographic work I was always especially entranced... by the moment when the shadows of reality, so to speak, emerge out of nothing on the exposed paper, as memories do in the middle of the night, darkening again if you try to cling to them.
You have your wonderful memories," people said later, as if memories were solace. Memories are not. Memories are by definition of times past, things gone. Memories are the Westlake uniforms in the closet, the faded and cracked photographs, the invitations to the weddings of the people who are no longer married, the mass cards from the funerals of the people whose faces you no longer remember. Memories are what you no longer want to remember.
I want to live with all of my memories, even if they’re sad memories. I believe that if I stay strong, someday I’ll overcome the pain, and then I’ll be glad that I have those memories. I believe that there are no memories that are okay to forget.
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