Quotes About Sorrow

She had around her a burning aura of loneliness.

Te romperías el corazón a ti misma —pensó—. Si lo tuvieras.»

Nunca seria mio, le habia perdido antes de empezar

I said Julián passed away. In Paris. Soon after he got there. He would have done better joining the army.

More or less everyone has lost someone, whatever side they belong to.

Vous aves poison au coeur, mademoiselle.

I looked at her, a broken woman with tears in her eyes, and didn't wish for anything in the world other than the ability to give her back what she'd never had.

En mi mundo, la muerte era una mano anónima e incomprensible, un vendedor a domicilio que se llevaba madres, mendigos o vecinos nonagenarios como si se tratase de una lotería del infierno.

I thought about the loneliness that would take hold of me that night when I said good-bye to her, once I had run out of tricks or stories to make her stay with me any longer. I thought about how little I had to offer her and how much I wanted from her.

A pound of joy weighs more When grief has gone before.

A bedjacket speaks of desperation, and what it says is: toodle-oo.

Listen to the sea...it sounds like a coffin being dragged over broken glass.

Grief was the same, no matter what caused it.

Was this all there was to life? Joys and sorrows reduced to a box full of gray ashes.

Tears on the outside fall to the ground and are slowly washed away. Tears on the inside fall on the soul. And stay and stay and stay.

you could have missed the pain, but you'd have had to miss the dance,'

By the moonlight he watched his wife for the last time. His hand sought the adjacent flesh and sorrow paralleled desire in the immense complexity of love.

It all happened in a second. The three of them reached Baby at the same time. She lay crumpled down on the dirty sidewalk. Her skirt was over her head, showing her pink panties and her little white legs. Her hands were open—in one there was the prize from the candy and in the other the pocketbook. There was blood all over her hair ribbon and the top of her yellow curls. She was shot in the head and her face was turned down toward the ground.

Then when he had washed the ashtray and the glass he brought out a pistol from his pocket and put a bullet in his chest.

He could not understand the wild quiver of his heart, nor the following sense of recklessness and grace that lingered after she was gone.

She hated herself, and had become a loafer and a big no-good who hung around the summer kitchen: dirty and greedy and mean and sad.

How can the dead be truly dead when they are still walking in my heart?

Frances wanted the whole world to die.

And in answer the words trembled on his lips - the words which are surely the root of all human grief - so that he almost said aloud : 'Almighty Host! Utmost power of the universe! I have done those things which I ought not to have done and left undone those things which I ought to have done. So this cannot truly be the end.