Quotes About Sadness

Life is the saddest thing there is, next to death; yet there are always new countries to see, new books to read (and, I hope, to write), a thousand little daily wonders to marvel at and rejoice in.

There did I finde mine onely faithfull frend In heauy plight and sad perplexitie; Whereof I sorie, yet my selfe did bend, Him to recomfort with my companie.

And William laughed with his special blend of mischief, compounded of humor, spite, and sadness in a ratio even he wasn't sure of but that he mixed by feel.

He thought to himself, I'll never be this perfect again, an idea that made him sad.

I cannot be certain what I would have said. I knew that there was something sad and faintly distasteful about love's ending, particularly love that has never been fully realised. I might have hinted at that, but I doubt it. In our deepest moments we say the most inadequate things. short story Sister Imelda

tears running down her cheeks and her nose, tears from the cold and the prospect of being absent for weeks.

I cannot be certain what I would have said. I knew that there was something sad and faintly distasteful about love's ending, particularly love that has never been fully realised. I might have hinted at that, but I doubt it. In our deepest moments we say the most inadequate things. Edna O'Brien, short story Sister Imelda, in Returning.

There are a lot of sad stories. It seems like everybody has one to tell.

Most people wait for their parents to die with a mixture of tremendous sadness and plans for a new swimming pool.

When we first listen to depression, we find that the misery is consuming. It doesn't point anywhere or say anything. It just is. But when we keep listening, it tells stories of loss, rejection, or other events that happened to the person. It speaks of identifiable physiological problems. It points to a culture of irony: the culture with the most peace, money, and leisure is also the one with the most malignant sadness.

the culture with the most peace, money, and leisure is also the one with the most malignant sadness.

He extols the efficacy of the sign of the cross in chasing him, and dissipating his illusions, and lays down rules for the discernment of spirits, the first of which is, that the devn leaves on the soul impressions of fear, sadness, confusion, and disturbance.

To be a character who feels a deep emotion, one must go into the memory's vault and mix in a sad memory from one's own life.

Being only a dog, Lad had no way of knowing his vanished deities ever would come back to him. Pitifully he followed the Mistress upstairs and down and everywhere she moved, as she prepared for the departure. He refused to be consoled when she patted him and when she said she and the Master would be back in a few days. His classic head drooped. His plumed tail hung disconsolate. He was the picture of utter misery.

The Day of the Dead is, in fact, a day of sadness. But it is not a day of regret. I think we're all at work sorting our calendars out. What it is, is that sometimes as human beings we just simply feel something. That feeling has value. That's what holidays are. That's what this day and others like it are about.

On a whitely cloudy day I get sad, almost afraid, And I begin to meditate about problems I make up.

Se sentía completamente tranquilo, frío; si acaso, un poco triste; era una tristeza misteriosa que consideraba ya inseparable de su carácter.

I've written this to keep from crying. But I am crying, only the tears won't come.

the wine the sadness and the night

nada más triste que beber alcohol a solas porque hay una necesidad urgente de tocar manos y oír canciones y guitarras

ABUELO.—Me decía Telva que te andaban rondando no sé qué ideas tristes por la cabeza. ADELA.—Bah, tonterías. Pequeñas cosas, que una misma agranda porque a veces da gusto llorar sin saber por qué.

People here snarl and frown a lot, he wrote; he had seen neither a smile nor the sun in months. What is life without beauty, love, and justice?

We are never as beautiful as now. The crushing sadness of hotel rooms; the gelid lights and clean notepads; the blank walls and particles of someone else's erased life.

The cafeteria in the Chicago's Children's Memorial Hospital basement was the saddest place in the world—and forever it shall be—with its grim neon lights and gray tabletops and the diffuse foreboding of those who stepped away from suffering children to have a grilled cheese sandwich.