Quotes About Sorrow

without him—I wasn't sure I could go on breathing. But I did." "I know," Sylvie said. "It was because I loved him," Jane said. "And that's what love does. It takes hold of you so hard . . . takes hold of your breath. Your heart, your pulse, your thoughts, everything.

I'm sure we should not shut our hearts against the healing influences that nature offers us. But i understand your feeling. I think we all experience the same thing. We resent the thought that anything can please use when someone we love is no longer here to share the pleasure with us, and we almost feel as we were unfaithful to our sorrow when we find our interest in life returning to us

We resent the thought that anything can please us when someone we love is no longer here to share the pleasure with us, and we almost feel as if we were unfaithful to our sorrow when we find out interest in life returning to us.

For the fairies dwell only in the kingdom of Happiness; having no souls they cannot enter the kingdom of Sorrow.

I'm sure no life can be properly developed and rounded out without some trial and sorrow - though I suppose it is only when we are pretty comfortable that we admit it.

It was the last night before sorrow touched her life; and no life is ever quite the same again when once that cold, sanctifying touch has been laid upon it

For as long as the world spins and the earth is green with new wood, she will lie in this box and not in my arms.

In truth, I don't want to be there. I don't want to see the light go out of my brother's eyes.

Though at the moment, with the bleak emptiness of the rest of his mortal journey facing him, he couldn't help but wonder if he might have been better off never to have known her, never to have loved her, and never to have lost her. He closed his eyes and wept.

Your face is lined with beauty from laughter and tears

Why invite sorrow? Life is long enough to contain enough without asking for more.

When someone is grieving He had too much respect for sorrow to approach it with curiosity. He had learned to put off his shoes when he drew nigh the burning bush of human pain.

I had no children, I did not transmit to any creature the legacy of our misery.

Estou que empalideci; pelo menos, senti correr um frio pelo corpo todo. A notícia de que ela vivia alegre, quando eu chorava todas as noites, produziu-me aquele efeito, acompanhado de um bater de coração, tão violento, que ainda agora cuido ouvi-lo.

E caem!- Folhas misérrimas do meu cipreste, heis de cair, como quaisquer outras belas e vistosas; e, se eu tivesse olhos, dar-vos-ia uma lágrima de saudade. Esta é a grande vantagem da morte, que, se não deixa boca para rir, também não deixa olhos para chorar... Heis de cair.

There's nothing like sorrow to get your attention. It is almost as though sorrow pulls presence out of you. In the midst of sorrow there's nothing to do but be there and celebrate the hurt. We celebrate the hurt through holy screams. Holy screams come from the heart. They are screams that people often, in their ignorance, try to smother. Don't let them take your screams away too early. Holy resignation comes only after holy screams.

The joys of love...last only a moment. The sorrows of love last all the life long.

It was a star, Mrs. Whatsit said sadly. A star giving up its life in battle with the Thing. It won, oh, yes, my children, it won. But it lost its life in the winning.

Her bed felt huge and empty now, and when she slept, she did so with her arm around a pillow. She dreamed of him almost every night, sometimes good dreams of happy days and joyful times; often they were terrible dreams of abandonment, loss and sorrow. She didn't know which was worse: every morning she woke afresh to the knowledge that he was gone and he would never come back. It would never be all right again.

199. For to wish to forget how much you loved someone—and then, to actually forget—can feel, at times, like the slaughter of a beautiful bird who chose, by nothing short of grace, to make a habitat of your heart.

Perhaps it is becoming clearer why I felt no romance when you told me that you carried my last letter with you, everywhere you went, for months on end, unopened. This may have served some purpose for you, but whatever it was, surely it bore little resemblance to mine. I never aimed to give you a talisman, an empty vessel to flood with whatever longing, dread, or sorrow happened to be the day's mood. I wrote it because I had something to say to you.

If only. The saddest two words in any language.

He felt rather like someone lying in a bath after all the water has run out, witless, almost dead.

It was just possible too of course that he might meet— But suddenly the Calle Nicaragua rose up to meet him. The Consul lay face downward on the deserted street.