Quotes About Sorrow

I'll serve something black. Bean soup, licorice, coffee. It'll be very grim, I promise. We'll cover the mirrors. We'll listen to Piaf. We'll read passages from Dostoyevsky.

I don't know if you've ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist.

He said that it was a very bad accident, and my Aunt Helen was definitely killed instantly. In other words, there was no pain. There was no pain anymore.

She would be alive if I were born on a day that didn't snow. I would do anything to make this go away. I miss her terribly. I have to stop writing now because I am too sad.

The open mouth of a saloon called seductively to passengers to enter and annihilate sorrow or create rage.

ONCE, I KNEW A FINE SONG, —IT IS TRUE, BELIEVE ME,— IT WAS ALL OF BIRDS, AND I HELD THEM IN A BASKET; WHEN I OPENED THE WICKET, HEAVENS! THEY ALL FLEW AWAY. I CRIED, 'COME BACK, LITTLE THOUGHTS!' BUT THEY ONLY LAUGHED. THEY FLEW ON UNTIL THEY WERE AS SAND THROWN BETWEEN ME AND THE SKY.

Is that how you feel, my friend? That the air dislikes you and your lungs feel half-empty?

historical. Outside, waiting to be seated: Illness, Boredom, Sorrow. Loneliness already seated, dining with a group.

The experiences of men in combat produces emotions stronger than civilians can know, emotions of terror, panic, anger, sorrow, bewilderment, helplessness, uselessness, and each of these feelings drained energy and mental stability.

But sorry is the Kool-Aid of human emotions. [...] True sorrow is as rare as true love.

Do any of us, except in our dreams, truly expect to be reunited with our hearts' deepest loves, even when they leave us only for minutes, and on the most mundane of errands? No, not at all. Each time they go from our sight we in our secret hearts count them as dead. Having been given so much, we reason, how could we expect not to be brought as low as Lucifer for the staggering presumption of our love?

Sorry is the Kool-Aid of human emotions. It's what you say when you spill a cup of coffee or throw a gutter ball when you're bowling with the girls in the league. True sorrow is as rare as true love.

True sorrow is as rare as true love.

Time takes it all, whether you want it to or not. Time takes it all, time bears it away, and in the end there is only darkness. Sometimes we find others in that darkness, and sometimes we lose them there again.

Crying was like pissing everything out on the ground.

Dead was the gift that kept on giving. Dead, like diamonds, was forever.

But who knows how long a grief may last? Isn't it possible that, even thirty or forty years after the death of a child or a brother or a sister, one may half waken, thinking of that person with the same lost emptiness, that feeling of places which may never be filled... not even in death?

Some birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.

Oy? he asked. Will you say goodbye? Oy looked at Roland, and for a moment the gunslinger wasn't sure he understood. Then the bumbler extended his neck and caressed the boy's cheek a last time with his tongue. I, Ake, he said: Bye, Jake or I ache, it came to the same.

Of course it's heavier, he thought. It's got my grief in it. I pull it along with me everywhere I go, so I do.

All alcohol smells the same to me, of sadness and loss.

Sorrow for a wrong was better than nothing...but no amount of after-the-fact sorrow could ever atone for joy taken in destruction...

and then woe is you, Pauly. Woe to the max.

Certain empty houses that seemed to stare like the faces of people suffering from terrible mental illness. An empty barn on the outskirts of town, the hayloft door swinging open and closed on rusty hinges, first disclosing darkness, then hiding it, then disclosing it again.