Quotes About Sorrow

Thou art happy that thou hast not understanding to know thy misery; for all our wit and reading brings us to a truer sense of sorrow.

I begged her not to leave me. I begged her to stay and help me bear my life.

He forgot that anybody was there, and, sobbing, hid his face in his great hands.

But I've never despised myself so much as I did that day - she was so small and - so fierce, so beautiful , it was like breaking a hawk's wings, stopping up a clear spring with bricks - digging up roses to make space to park your tank. Pointless and ugly.

But a part of me lies buried in lace and roses on a riverbank in France—a part of me is broken off forever. A part of me will always be unflyable, stuck in the climb.

He wept when they told him you were no longer allowed to see him. He WEPT. How much weeping have you done on his account, girl?" "I wake up screaming every night on his account.

And the smile that is worth the praises of earth is the smile that shines through tears.

Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own.

To possess character is to be useful, and to be useful is to be independent, and to be useful and independent, is to be happy, even in the midst of sorrow; for sorrow is not necessarily unhappiness.

Silently, his tears were streaming down his face like water from a faucet that could not be turned all the way off.

My bad thoughts and fears stop and I Iook up through the ice, and see a world I never belonged in, that never wanted me.

On a bleak day in April, just before the first crocuses broke through the sodden gray of autumn leaves, Ann, that was her name, Krey's love, got Stage 1 of Dying Stupidly. A scratch from a squirrel she was feeding got infected. Some days later, they gave her penicillin. Then they put her in the hospital where she got streptococcal pneumonia. From scratch to burial took a month.

In view of this human distress, and of the fact that the afflicted friends could mourn over the dead while the Saviour of the world stood by,--"Jesus wept." Though He was the Son of God, yet He had taken human nature upon Him, and He was moved by human sorrow. His tender, pitying heart is ever awakened to sympathy by suffering. He weeps with those that weep, and rejoices with those that rejoice.

So with us; by idle talk, evilspeaking, or neglect of prayer, we may in one day lose the Saviour's presence, and it may take many days of sorrowful search to find Him, and regain the peace that we have lost.

Could mortals have viewed the amazement and the sorrow of the angelic host as they watched in silent grief the Father separating His beams of light, love, and glory from the beloved Son of His bosom, they would better understand how offensive sin is in His sight.

The world, though fallen, is not all sorrow and misery. In nature itself are messages of hope and comfort.

As they witnessed in drooping flower and falling leaf the first signs of decay, Adam and his companion mourned more deeply than men now mourn over their dead. The death of the frail, delicate flowers was indeed a cause of sorrow; but when the goodly trees cast off their leaves, the scene brought vividly to mind the stern fact that death is the portion of every living thing.

He would leave his high position as the Majesty of heaven, appear upon earth and humble himself as a man, and by his own experience become acquainted with the sorrows and temptations which man would have to endure.

As I lay alone in my bed, I prayed for eternal darkness and a sun that never rose.

Hell is the special pain that dwells in that loss which you yourself have caused

Give me one last time," he begged. "Please, please. I beg you." "I—" She stopped and started again. "I'm afraid, Gabriel. You'll break my heart." "Mine is already broken.

They were talking about things that didn't matter a fig, not with the huge yawning grief burning a hole in his chest because of what had happened to her. To Josie. His Josie, now.

Come, tears, confound,' he cried. 'Out, sword, and wound the left breast of Pyramus. Ay, that left breast where his heart doth hop.

Doesn't he kill himself at that point?