Quotes About Sadness

So much sadness exists in the world that we are all under obligation to contribute as much joy as lies within our powers.

95. But please don't write again to tell me how you have woken up weeping. I already know how you are in love with your weeping.

Descubre que es posible llorar todo el día y toda la noche. Que hay muchas formas de llorar: lágrimas que se derraman de repente, gemidos hondos y desgarrados, el interminable goteo silencioso de agua de los ojos.

She discovers that it is possible to cry all day and all night. That there are many different ways to cry: the sudden outpouring of tears, the deep, racking sobs, the soundless and endless leaking of water from the eyes.

Sadness keeps attempting to tie weights to her wrists and ankles, therefore she has to keep moving, she has to outpace it. And so she walks, along one terrace then another, from one battlement to the next

Peace to the hint of sadness in your eyes.

Usually when people are sad, they don't do anything. They just cry over their condition. But when they get angry, they bring about a change.

Estoy muy cansado, Valentín. Estoy cansado de sufrir. Vos no sabés, me duelte todo por dentro. - ¿ Adónde te duele? - Adentro del pecho, y en la garganta - ¿ Porque será que la tristeza se siente siempre ahí?

las luces apagadas para evitar verse, tres ciegos reunidos a la hora más triste del día

The trouble with a great sadness is that it doesn't fit inside your body.

A house without books must be sad. Even sadder a house of books without people.

As one who appreciated the tragic side of eating, it seemed to him that anything other than fruit for dessert implied a reprehensible frivolity, and cakes in particular ended up annihilating the flavour of quiet sadness that must be allowed to linger at the end of a great culinary performance.

Parece que la luz hace que la tristeza se vaya.

In a word, everything [15]was sadness and bitterness. And still peace, always peace, reigned at the bottom of the chalice.

Earth again seemed a sad place and I understood that in heaven alone joy will be without any clouds.

Skylar?" Dr. Nagash's expression, honed by years of delivering bad news, turned grave. "Skylar was in the accident, too. He was injured severely." "Is he here?" Tessa asked, her voice faint and hoarse. "In the… hospital?" "Tessa, he didn't make it to the hospital. Skylar died at the scene of the accident. I'm terribly sorry.

El amor es a la vez algo triste y maravilloso.

I cannot express the uneasiness caused in me by this intrusion of mystery and beauty into a room I had at last filled with myself to the point of paying no more attention to the room than to that self. The anesthetizing influence of habit having ceased, I would begin to have thoughts, and feelings, and they are such sad things.

Truth and life are very difficult to fathom, and I retained of them, without really having got to know them, an impression in which sadness was perhaps actually eclipsed by exhaustion.

I thought nothing at all, but I felt an immense sadness, as when two parts of one's past existence, which have been anchored near to one, and upon which one has perhaps been basing idly from day to day an unacknowledged hope, remove themselves finally, with a joyous flapping of pennants, for unknown destinations, like a pair of ships. As

Happiness contracted by the cold, forced to withdraw into itself, to close into its heart, it is there that I find the greatest intensity. It is true that I have only ever experienced it through sadness. But it is always the same.

More than anything else the viscount's sad, sweet gaze made the boy feel like crying. Alexis knew that those eyes had always been sad and, even in the happiest moments, they seemed to implore a consolation for sufferings that he did not appear to experience. But at this moment Alexis believed that his uncle's sadness, courageously banished from his conversation, had taken refuge in his eyes, which, along with his sunken cheeks, were the only sincere things about his entire person.

With ardent sadness he contemplated the scene of his death for a long time, endlessly revising it like a work of art and surrounding it with images of this world, images that still imbued his thoughts, but that, already slipping away from him in his gradual departure, became vague and beautiful.

Love is not something you save and hoard. You're born with it and you spend it when you have to and there's always more because you're a woman and there's always suffering and pain and gentleness and sadness to make it grow.