Quotes About Sorrow

Our mind is but a lump of clay That Fate, grim potter, holds On sorrow's wheel that rolls away, And, as he pleases, moulds.

And in that day did the Lord God of hosts call to weeping, and to mourning, and to baldness, and to girding with sackcloth: And behold joy and gladness, slaying oxen, and killing sheep, eating flesh, and drinking wine: let us eat and drink; for to morrow we shall die.

The heart knoweth his own bitterness.

Hear ye, and give ear; be not proud: for the LORD hath spoken.... But if you will not hear, my soul shall weep in secret places for your pride.

How long shall I harbor sorrow in my soul, grief in my heart day after day? Look, answer me, O Lord, my God!

In much wisdom is much grief.

Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.

When the young die and the old live, nature's machinery is working with the friction that we name grief.

And then depression set in....

The word 'happy' would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness.

I was terribly wounded by my wife's death.

When the baby dies, On every side Rose stranger's voices, hard and harsh and loud. The baby was not wrapped in any shroud. The mother made no sound. Her head was bowed That men's eyes might not see Her misery.

It makes me so desperately sad to witness just how unforgivably wretched our world has become.

I write about the power of trying, because I want to be okay with failing. I write about generosity because I battle selfishness. I write about joy because I know sorrow. I write about faith because I almost lost mine, and I know what it is to be broken and in need of redemption. I write about gratitude because I am thankful - for all of it.

It's still scary every time I go back to the past. Each morning, my heart catches. When I get there, I remember how the light was, where the draft was coming from, what odors were in the air. When I write, I get all the weeping out.

The human life is all one thing, like a blade tracing loops on the ice: a little kid, a twenty-three-year-old infantry sergeant, a middle-aged writer knowing guilt and sorrow.

Sorrow has a name, and its name is loneliness. Sorrow has a shape, and its shape is absence. Sorrow is a sickness like any other.

Liir held Chistery in his lap and sobbed into his scalp. Chistery said, Well, we'll wail while woe'll wheel, and he cried along with Liir.

she couldn't hep but think abut the loss of her father, and how such a condition became constat, like an appendage or tumor. Hello, this is I, and these my arms and legs, wich are useful, and this inconvenient hump is my sorrow, which is less that useful, but I've learned how to hump it about with me, so pay it no mind.

Regret could disguise itself in a thousand veils, you could perish before having the strength to drag the last one away.

Hello, this is I, and these are my arms and legs, which are useful, and this inconvenient hump is my sorrow, which is less than useful, but I've learned how to hump it around, so pay it no mind.

Sea, I am like you, filled with broken voices

She would have liked not to be alive, or to be always asleep.

We must laugh and cry, enjoy and suffer, in a word, vibrate to our full capacity … I think that's what being really human means.