and nobody knows what’s going to happen to anybody besides…

“I sat cross-legged in the sand and contemplated my life. Well, there, and what difference did it make? "What's going to happen to me…

— Jack Kerouac

“So in America when the sun goes down and I sit on the old broken-down river pier watching the long, long skies over New…

— Jack Kerouac

Apoplexie and lethargie, As forlorn hope, assault the enemy.

— Guillaume de Salluste Du Bartas

In imagination she sailed over storied seas that wash the distant shining shores of "faëry lands forlorn," where lost Atlantis and Elysium lie, with…

— Anonymous

The hallucinogenic world, in environmental terms, can be considered as a forlorn effort of man to match the speed of power of hisextended nervous…

— Marshall McLuhan

Even though kids may have planned for months for the trip to Disneyland, some may be feeling very homesick, very forlorn, or very marginalized…

— Parker J. Palmer

Then he knew that they had rounded the cape of good hope, and he took her large, soft hand again and covered it with…

— Gabriel Garcia Marquez

My Muse sits forlorn She wishes she had not been born She sits in the cold No word she says is ever told.

— Stevie Smith

There is no God, no universe, no human race, no earthly life, no heaven, no hell. It is all a dream, a grotesque and…

— Mark Twain

Be guided, only by the healer of the sick, the raiser of the dead, the friend of all who were afflicted and forlorn, the…

— Charles Dickens

“Wandering between two worlds, one dead The other powerless to be born, With nowhere yet to rest my head Like these, on earth I…

— Matthew Arnold

“There was but a single forlorn hope, and I took it.”

— Edgar Rice Burroughs

On a ruinous wall I came upon a poster dating from the previous year and announcing that ‘six handsome bulls’ would be killed in…

— George Orwell

Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In…

— John Keats

“To say she is only a woman is to say a violin is a piece of wood with strings, and Dante is mere ink…

— Bruce Crown