Quotes About Sorrow

Death is not an unkind fate,' Darist said above him. 'If she was a friend, you will miss her company, and that is the true source of your grief—your sorrow is for yourself. My words may displease you, but I speak from experience. I have felt the deaths of many of my kin, and I mourn the spaces in my life where they once stood. But such losses serve only to ease my own impending demise.

Names are no comfort, they're a call to answer the unanswerable. Why did she die, not him? Why do the survivors remain anonymous—as if cursed—while the dead are revered? Why do we cling to what we lose while we ignore what we still hold? Name none of the fallen, for they stood in our place, and stand there still in each moment of our lives. Let my death hold no glory, and let me die forgotten and unknown.

There is, on rare occasions, true joy, but each time that precious, startling moment then dwindles, and in each face you see a hint of sorrow—as if what was just found will now be for ever remembered as a thing lost. Can you be nostalgic for the instant just past? Oh yes, and it's a bittersweet taste.

Ah, my love. Forgive me.' He set out, boots crunching on the dead. Returned to the world. Draconus.

I think the Crippled God has made a terrible mistake…

from a burning tenement block spread an acrid haze that made breathing tortured. They rode through the silent aftermath of slaughter, when the rage has passed and awareness returns with shock and shame. The moment was a single indrawn breath in what Fiddler knew would be an ever-burgeoning wildfire.

We weep in our lives for the things lost to us, the worlds done.

Kenya, Kazakhstan and K Street too? Yes...that all of God's people might love and serve him with gladness and singleness of heart, in our various vocations taking the wounds of the world into our hearts - the heartaches and longings, sorrows and disappointments, and sometimes evil - and finding in that calling that our own hearts are healed too. In N.T. Wright's theologically rich image, becoming healed healers . May it be so.

He hands the page to his wife and looks across the room to Colleen's picture, listening to her absence, breathing deeply the air she can't share.

Her body begs to be taken away and put into a warm bed with the sheets pulled high, even though nothing can help now.

I thought they were meant to leave one another - not me.

When you hold hands with the dead, eventually they pull you into the grave.

Blood-colored clouds stained the eerie crystal sky. The Darkhawk sailed low over a landscape covered with dead forests, dry plains, empty riverbeds and long-abandoned train tracks. Everything wound through a twisted network of jagged hills the color of bones, and pools of brackish water ran across the landscape like puss.

What's the first thing I do when I wake up in the morning? Wish I hadn't.

Every life has a measure of sorrow, and sometimes this is what awakens us.

Murray regarded all hardship as a test of character. To surrender to callousness or despair in the face of such sorrow was to be revealed as its accomplice.

Some are born for peace and joy Some are born for sorrow But only for a day as we Shall not be here tomorrow

he said that it was better to cry for love than for fear, but best of all for repentance.

Hope and desire, All unfulfilled. Have more than rope And hangman killed.

It may be true that death is a big empty hole and that sorrow is to know just how empty that hole is, but it's only true if you are sober. If you have liquor, then you can fill the hole up with all the beautiful thoughts you can think of and all the nice words you can find. You can fill it up all the way to the brim and place a stone on it afterward.

When she enters the room she immediately shuts the window and draws the shade with a quick, hard pull. Then she throws herself down on the bed, and the sobbing starts all over again. It's as if she can't sob when she's not in a lying position - either that or she has to start sobbing the moment she lies down.

Med näsduken pressad mot ett öga i taget gråter han av tomhet, gråter och gråter, ty tomheten har fler tårar än någonting annat.

But so uncaring is life against the man who has killed a child that everything after is too late.

Love seemed far from this place, but then, had he not predicted himself that love could be cruel and stronger than death?