Quotes About Sorrow

God is unkind to gardeners and reapers. Slanted rain coils and falls from up high And the wide raincoats catch water, That once had reflected the sky. In underwater realm are fields and meadows And the free currents sing a lot, Plums rupture on bloated branches And grass strands, lying down, rot. And through the dense and watery net I see your darling face, A quiet park, a round porch And a Chinese arbour-place.

Forgive me that I ignored the sun And that I lived in sorrow.

What was in our stars That destined us for sorrow?

He was jealous, fearful and tender, He loved me like God's only light, And that she not sing of the past times He killed my bird colored white. He said, in the lighthouse at sundown: "Love me, laugh and write poetry!" And I buried the joyous songbird Behind a round well near a tree. I promised that I would not mourn her. But my heart turned to stone without choice, And it seems to me that everywhere And always I'll hear her sweet voice.

Forgive me that I felt forsaken, That grief and angst were all I knew. Forgive me that I kept mistaking Too many other men for you.

Magdalene wept in a furious daze, The dear disciple stood still, like a stone.

An as it's going often at love's breaking, The ghost of first days came again to us, The silver willow through window then stretched in, The silver beauty of her gentle branches. The bird began to sing the song of light and pleasure To us, who fears to lift looks from the earth, Who are so lofty, bitter and intense, About days when we were saved together.

Now the pillow's Hot on both sides. A second candle Dies, the ravens cry Endlessly. No sleep all night, Too late to think of sleep… How unbearably white The blind's white deep. Hello, Morning!

Like thick and tangled hair Of Magdalenes half-crazed.

She shook her head. "No, Jonas." " 'No, Jonas' is all you ever say," he responded with a hint of savagery. He knew he was unfair, but he was just so damned miserable. Her smile wavered into a warmth that calmed his anger. "Not always." He shut his eyes as the memory of wild nights overpowered him. Good God, at this rate, he'd be bawling like a motherless calf.

The mattress shifted as he turned to look at her. Perhaps the darkness would hide her weeping. A futile hope. She'd long ago noted the acuteness of his senses. "Oh, my dear." Unerringly, he reached out and captured a tear in his fingers. Another tear, another. She closed her eyes and struggled for composure. "Crying won't help," she said huskily. "Sometimes it's all we can do." His voice caressed her like black silk.

Seeing her was like standing in sunlight after a long, hard winter, but he couldn't be easy meeting her in such surroundings. "Oh, Jonas," she said in a broken voiced started to cry. "Tesoro... sweetheart... my love," he choked out, cradling her in his arms. "Don't cry. Please don't cry.

Seeing her was like standing in sunlight after a long, hard winter, but he couldn't be easy meeting her in such surroundings. "Oh, Jonas," she said in a broken voice and started to cry. "Tesoro... sweetheart... my love," he choked out, cradling her in his arms. "Don't cry. Please don't cry.

it wouldn't take much for the sorrow she felt at the sorrow she caused to drown her again

I said I wanted to see her. 'You can't.' He turned the key, dropped it into his pocket, threw a pistol down on the table. 'She's dead.' A knife went through me. All other deaths in the world were outside; this one was in my body, like a bayonet, like my own.

Only do not forget, If I wake up crying it's because in my dreams I'm a lost child hunting through the leaves of the night for your hands. Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets, XXI

We take so much into us when we lose someone we love," he said. "We must hold what is left of them. We make choices they would have made, feel what they would have felt. This is the piece of ourselves we lose, you see, because we must make room for them. Death is a parasite, of sorts.

Her smile faded. "Do you know the worst thing about it? I forgot him. Daemon was a friend, and I forgot him. That Winsol, before I was…he gave me a silver bracelet. I don't know what happened to it. I had a picture of him. I don't know what happened to that either. And then he gave everything he had to help me, and when it was done, everyone walked away from him as if he didn't matter.

She stared at him for a long moment. Then she put her hand in his . . . and broke his heart.

He that hath nothing to feed on but vanity and lies must needs lie down in the bed of sorrow.

Oh, I am very weary, Though tears no longer flow My eyes are tired of weeping, My heart is sick of woe.

The red world And corresponding red breezes Went on Geryon did not

My mother forbade us to walk backwards. That is how the dead walk, she would say. Where did she get this idea? Perhaps from a bad translation. The dead, after all, do not walk backwards but they do walk behind us. They have no lungs and cannot call out but would love for us to turn around. They are victims of love, many of them.

what song of death, what dance of Hades shall I do?