Quotes About Sorrow

Young people have a right to optimism, and rightly so; human beings have grown and developed and accomplished wonderful feats in the world. But what mires me in pessimism is the fact that so much of life is pain and sorrow and willful ignorance and violence, and pushing back against that tide takes so much effort, so much steady fight. It's tiring.

If watching your child die is a parent's worst nightmare, imagine having to tell your other child that his sister is dead... Although I am certain that he cried, that we all cried, what I remember more is how we collapsed into each other, as if the weight of our loss literally crushed us.

It's not natural to outlive your child. This has always been my greatest fear.

No one can ever prepare a parent for two things: the immeasurable love that comes with having a child; and the sorrow and confusion that comes when your child appears to learn in a different way from other children.

Since our society equates happiness with youth, we often assume that sorrow, quiet desperation, and hopelessness go hand in hand with getting older. They don't. Emotional pain or numbness are symptoms of living the wrong life, not a long life.

If our hearts are ready for anything, we can open to our inevitable losses, and to the depths of our sorrow. We can grieve our lost loves, our lost youth, our lost health, our lost capacities. This is part of our humanness, part of the expression of our love for life.

It is the youth who must inherit the tribulation, the sorrow... that are the aftermath of war.

There's nothing trite about being consoled in a world that does everything in its power to deliver sorrow.

This book, conceived in sorrow, composed in grief, and constructed at the brink of despair, contains my mind's best thoughts, and my soul's triumph over the powers of darkness.

I think that one of the reasons why people look towards the end of humanity is that people are afraid to die alone. If you die alone, the people you love will miss you, or if they die, you miss them - the sorrow is inevitable. When you truly love someone, the thought of losing them forever is horrible.

If there was a way to bring someone back, would you do it, no matter what the consequences might be? I know that for me, my logical mind says, 'Of course not!' But the truth is, when you lose someone who is so close to you, it's as if they are a part of you; there's always one more thing to say, one more moment you wish you'd had.

God is patient with us to become the God's children he wants us to be but you really can see him weeping.

The bustle in a house The morning after death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon earth,-- The sweeping up the heart, And putting love away We shall not want to use again Until eternity

Charlie didn't want to give up meat and smoking. Now he's gone.

In truth, I don't want to be there. I don't want to see the light go out of my brother's eyes.

It is observed of gold, by an old epigrammatist, that to have it is to be in fear, and to want it is to be in sorrow.

I got my heart broken. My spirit got shattered and mutilated. I will not be coming back from this. I don't want to.

"I don't like this," he said. "I don't like knowing you can't forgive me, Claire. Please, I said I was sorry, what do you want me to do? Beg? I will. I'll get on my knees right here if you want."

You are alone when something like this happens. Doesn't matter how many people love you and want to help you. You are alone. When Marchent died, she was alone.

He cries. 'Please! I don't want to die.' I lean over. My hair smothers him. 'Then you should never have been born,' I say.

What would you do if I died? If you died I would want to die too. So you could be with me? Yes. So I could be with you. Okay.

How am I supposed to let you go, that's all I'm asking. I want to hold you again, smell you, and, yes too, I just want you to fade. To please, please fade.

You can never maintain just pure happiness. In my life, I want full emotion. I want equal parts happiness and sadness.

The sin and the shame and the sorrow, The crime and the want and the woe That are born there in your workshop, No hand can paint, you know.