Quotes About Sorrow

I borrow the stilts of an old tragedy.

In that valley the train shrieks echo like souls on hooks.

There was no absence of lips, there were two children, But their bones showed, and the moon smiled.

Sheep In Fog The hills step off into whiteness. People or stars Regard me sadly, I disappoint them. The train leaves a line of breath. O slow Horse the colour of rust, Hooves, dolorous bells ---- All morning the Morning has been blackening, A flower left out. My bones hold a stillness, the far Fields melt my heart. They threaten To let me through to a heaven Starless and fatherless, a dark water.

And now I Foam to wheat, a glitter of seas. The child's cry Melts in the wall. And I Am the arrow, That dew that flies Suicidal, at one with the drive Into the red Eye, the cauldron of morning. --from Ariel, written 27 October 1962

Para a pessoa dentro da redoma de vidro, vazia e imóvel como um bebê morto, o mundo inteiro é um sonho ruim.

It didn't seem to be summer any more. I could feel the winter shaking my bones and banging my teeth together, and the big white hotel towel I had dragged down with me lay under my head numb as a snowdrift.

morrer é uma arte, como tudo o mais. nisso sou excepcional. desse jeito faço parecer infernal. desse jeito faço parecer real. vão dizer que tenho vocação

My mother was the worst. She never scolded me, but kept begging me, with a sorrowful face, to tell her what she had done wrong.

Me sentía embotada y pesada y llena de sueños destruidos.

I could feel the tears start to spurt from the screwed-up nozzles of my eyes.

Living with her was like living with my own coffin: Yet I still depended on her, though I did it regretfully.

But in the midst of this terrible sorrow, this sickness, this weariness, this fear, I spin still: there is still the blessing of the natural world and those simply loved ones and all to read and see.

Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing

I should have been a pair of ragged claws/ Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

I see the eyes but not the tears This is my affliction.

I that was near your heart was removed therefrom

I can show you fear in a handful of dust

Nessun maggior dolore Che di ricordar del tempo felice Nella miseria. . . .

Everyone was mad already, my lady," Cadrach said with a strange, sorrowful smile. "It is merely that the times have brought it out in them.

Summer's End Cruel orb, my foe, the sun, Glaring upon things I never want to see again The proud, lightning-limbed oaks Of Hekhasor The shimmering blue waters of Silverhome's lake And the endless, endless sky Go away, foul sun! You make me sad.

My heart bleeds buttermilk. -Daine

When my first wife died long ago, in Ethiopia, I thought I knew grief. But until you have witnessed the death of a loved one to another man's violence, you know nothing of grief.

The Vazdru do not weep. Who weeps? Not I. Every word spoken was a tear.