Quotes About Sorrow

I like living. I have sometimes been wildly despairing, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.

Remorse," she said, with great gusto. "Remorse?

O que posso fazer para afastar a lembrança dos meus olhos?

eyes were red with recent weeping.

VISEZ CA MAMA MOARE! IMI LASA O CUTIE CU BATAILE INIMII EI.

A fost un om bun! Cum sa fi murit de cancer?!

My destiny is fulfilled. My blood is all gone. My veins are empty. I die.

I didn't tell them how hard everything was without Joshua. How much I loved him. How I would have given up everything—everything—to be with him again. Even for just one night.

As the teacher gave his lessons, he would look over at me from time to time and say, "Akira probably won't understand this, but Ã¢â'¬Â¦Ã¢â'¬Â or "This will be impossible for Akira to solve, but Ã¢â'¬Â¦Ã¢â'¬Â The other children would turn to look at me and snicker when he did this, but no matter how bitter I felt, he was right. Whatever the subject, it was completely incomprehensible to me. I was pained and saddened.

The relative who had said "What are you doing?" when I was paralyzed at the sight of my brother's corpse had not been able to intimidate me, but I could not forgive myself for what I had said to my mother. And how terrible the results had been for my brother. What a fool I am!

Affection: Tout ce qui, dans nos pensées, dans nos projets, dans nos résolutions est marqué d'un degré quelconque d'amour ou de haine, de joie ou de tristesse.

She already felt dead in everything but name. What remained to be taken from her? She longed to be enfolded, welcomed, into the earth - to breathe no more, love no more, hurt no more

Sorrow is an inseparable dimension of our human experience. We suffer after a loss because we are human. And in our suffering, we are transformed.

On the stairs he was crying so much he hardly saw where he was going - not a mad boo-hoo but wailing sheets of tears, shaken into funny groans by the bump of each step as he hurried down.

Sorrow is better than fear. Fear is a journey, a terrible journey. But, sorrow is at least an arriving.

Sorrow is better than fear. Fear is a journey,a terrible journey, but sorrow is at least an arrival. When the storm threatens, a man is afraid for his house. But when the house is destroyed, there is something to do. About a storm he can do nothing, but he can rebuild a house.

Solange's infant did not survive beyond the first week of life. She was lowered into the ground on March 7, bearing the name Jeanne-Gabrielle.

Centralia, a mining town in Pennsylvania made uninhabitable by an underground fire that began in 1962 and is still burning today (the road into town bears the graffiti legend "Welcome to Hell");

Chiku felt something very close to vertigo, a dizzy sort of perception that she had only just begun to grasp the vertical depth of a very long life, the sense of how far it plumbed the past. A life that went down like a lift-shaft, each floor containing an ordinary life's worth of love and loss, adventure and disappointment, dreams and ruins, joy and sorrow.

There was no present, no past, no future. No sadness, no sorrow, because those were ordinary little human emotions that required a frame of reference, and she had none to cling to. She had caved in, become a measureless void, no poles, no lines of latitude or longitude. She was an emptiness bigger than galaxies, unmapped and unmappable.

Grief reveals itself in the most mundane activities, like eating. It's never when you're looking at old pictures.

'Wanna Be That Song' has everything I want to say about love and about what I'm trying to be. I wanna be that part of your life, that song that means so much to you, the one that takes you back to that special place... the song that makes you laugh, the song that makes you cry when you need to cry, that makes you dance when you need to dance.

Someday, I have no doubt, the dead from today's wars will be seen with a similar sense of sorrow at needless loss and folly as those millions of men who lie in the cemeteries of France and Belgium - and tens of millions of Americans will feel a similar revulsion for the politicians and generals who were so spendthrift with others' lives.

What was rage but a cover for some secret fragility, some sorrow?