Quotes About Sadness

God gave us emotions. Emotions allow us to feel as we experience life. Because we feel, we connect. We share laughter and know the gift of empathy. Our emotions are what enable us to drink deeply from love and treasure it. And yes, we also experience difficult emotions such as sadness, fear, shame, and anger. But might these be important as well?

When a woman lives with the stress of an overwhelmed schedule, she'll ache with the sadness of an underwhelmed soul.

I had to get honest enough to admit it: I relied on food more than I relied on God. I craved food more than I craved God. Food was my comfort. Food was my reward. Food was my joy. Food was what I turned to in times of stress, sadness, and even in times of happiness.

To be a decent writer you must have both empathy and imagination. While these attributes aid your art, they can plague your soul. You don't simply suffer your own sadness, experience your own longing and worry about your own wife and children, you are burdened with experiencing the emotional states of multitudes of others you don't know.

Hosiah Lister, now dead, rec'd his freedom." Consider, then, the full measure of my sadness, reading this inscription; not merely for Hosiah Lister, but for all of us, consider the dear cost of liberty in a world so hostile, so teeming with enemies and opportunists, that one could not become free without casting aside all casualty, all choice, all will, all identity; finding freedom only in the spacious blankness of unbeing, the wide plains of nonentity, infinite and still.

Some love is so powerful after all, that it must always include sadness, because encrypted within it is the knowledge that someday it will come to an end.

Don't Cry Daddy is a pretty sad song. He got to the end of it and it was just real quiet and Elvis says, I'm gonna cut that someday for my daddy. And, by God, he did. He lived up to his word.

You have to let it all hang out, let go of the ideas that were more comfortable and embrace some of the sadness in your life.

They're beautiful. But sad.' Everything's sad if you make it so, I said.

It's like the day you realize dolls are dolls. I pick up my old self and I see it's silly. A toy I've played with too often. It's a little sad, like an old golliwog at the bottom of the cupboard. Innocent and used-up and proud and silly.

The two of us in that room. No past, no future. All intense deep that-time-only. A feeling that everything must end, the music, ourselves, the moon, everything. That if you get to the heart of things you find sadness for ever and ever, everywhere; but a beautiful silver sadness, like a Christ face.

Each death laid a dreadful charge of complicity on the living; each death was incongenerous, its guilt irreducible, its sadness immortal; a bracelet of bright hair about the bone. I did not pray for her, because prayer has no efficacy; I did not cry for her, because only extroverts cry twice; I sat in the silence of that night, that infinite hostility to man, to permanence, to love, remembering her, remembering her.

a beautiful silver sadness, like a Christ face.

Noi doi singuri în camer?. Nici trecut, nici viitor. Doar intensitatea È™i profunzimea momentului. SenzaÈ›ia c? totul avea în mod implacabil un sfârÈ™it: muzica, noi doi, luna, absolut totul. Dac? reuÈ™eÈ™ti s? p?trunzi în miezul lucrurilor, nu g?seÈ™ti altceva decât tristeÈ›e, numai tristeÈ›e, mereu È™i pretutindeni, dar o tristeÈ›e frumoas?, argintie, precum chipul lui Hristos.

Fiecare moarte apas? asupra celor vii, fiecare moarte apas? cu povara grea a complicit??ii; fiecare moarte este absurd?, l?sându-i pe ceilalÈ›i cu un sentiment de permanent? vinov??ie È™i o tristeÈ›e f?r? sfârÈ™it.

Of course I looked sad. But I didn't really feel sad. Or it wasn't a sadness that hurt, not an all-through one. I rather enjoyed it. Beastly, but I did. I sang on the way home. The romance, the mystery of it. Living.

Accepting the sadness. Knowing that to pretend it was all gay was treachery. Treachery to everyone sad at the moment, everyone ever sad, treachery to such music, such truth.

Yo tomo en mis manos mi Yo de antes y veo claramente que es tonto. Un juguete con el cual me he distraído demasiado tiempo. Esto es un poco triste, o, mejor dicho, muy triste.

He stood before the famous Rembrandt self portrait. The sad, proud old man stared eternally out of his canvas, out of the entire knowledge of his own genius and of the inadequacy of genius before human reality.

We could not expect him to see what we are only just beginning--and with so much more knowledge and the lessons of existentialist philosophy at our disposal--to realise ourselves: that the desire to hold and the desire to enjoy are mutually destructive. His statement to himself should have been, I possess this now, therefore I am happy, instead of what it so Victorianly was: I cannot possess this forever, and therefore am sad.

She nodded again, and took a deep breath. A small tear managed to find its way through the swelling and dropped onto her left cheek. He

a trance of desolation

What more is there to say than it was traumatic, a moment that breaks your life in half? That you never heal from it, and it blankets your life in sadness and fear forever?

It is a consuming knowledge, an overwhelming sadness for what is lost that makes enjoyment of the present impossible.