Quotes About Sorrow

Spiders seek my heart. There is a light that dies in my mouth. At night I found myself upon a heath, Thick with filth and stardust. In the hazel copse Crystal angels have chimed again.

But, R - e - m - o - r - s - e!The water-wagon is the place for me;…It is no time for mirth and laughter,The cold, gray dawn of the morning after!

What I wish above everything at this moment is that I could save myself the pain of seeing the pain on your face.

There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart's desire. The other is to gain it.

There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart's desire. The other is to gain it.

She was so pretty, so elegant, it made me lonely just to look at her.

Her eyes changed and her face went soft. I saw something there that I'd seen that afternoon in the planetarium, a certain tenderness tinged with sorrow—a depth of feeling that seemed at odds with her youth and beauty, but that also seemed to mirror my own feelings, feelings I hardly recognized in myself until I saw them in her.

now let humour give Seas to mine eyes, that I may quickly weep The shipwreck of the world

O Miss Bailey!Unfortunate Miss Bailey!

A little work, a little play,To keep us going—and so, good day!A little warmth, a little light,Of love's bestowing—and so, good night!A little fun, to match the sorrowOf each day's growing—and so, good morrow!A little trust that when we dieWe reap our sowing! and so—good-bye!

Conversion" expresses the idea better than repentance. "Repentance" suggests primarily sorrow for sin; metanoia suggests a change of mind; the Hebrew idea involves the turning around of the whole person toward God.

Maxims are texts to which we turn in danger or sorrow, and we often find what seems to have been expressly written for our use.

There is no despair so absolute as that which comes with the first moments of our first great sorrow, when we have not yet known what it is to have suffered and be healed, to have despaired and have recovered hope.

They say the dead have no memories and know no pain." George's voice was barely above a whisper, but somehow it was louder than the pleas of the corpses. "It's not that way for me.

The gate was open, and Ponytail sprawled on the ground. A hoof-sized hole gaped in his skull, and black flies crawled on his bloody hair. Next to him Tulip waited with a docile expression, looking like th

Human life has sorrow; They who meet must part; He that is born must die;

Sophie had been chiefly concerned in those days whether her mother would be able to bear the ordeal of losing two children at the same moment. But now, as Mother stood there, so brave and good, Sophie had a feeling of sudden release from anxiety. Again her mother spoke; she wanted to give her daughter something she might hold fast to: You know, Sophie - Jesus. Earnestly, firmly, almost imperiously, Sophie replied, Yes, but you too. Then she left - free, fearless, and calm.

Then a dark shape would glide across the star-covered sky, everyone would look up and the laughter would stop. It wasn't exactly what you'd call fear, rather a strange sadness--a sadness that had nothing human about it any more, for it lacked both courage and hope. This was how animals waited to die. It was the way fish caught in a net watch the shadow of the fisherman moving back and forth above them.

La vida es eso, alegría y llanto.

It's sad," said Lucile, thinking of all the girls whose youth was passing them by in vain: the men were gone, prisoners or dead. The enemy took their place. It was deplorable, but no one would even know in the future. It would be one of those things posterity would never find out, or would refuse to see out of a sense of shame.

Longtemps, Francine demeura immobile ; sa colère même était tombée ; de grosses larmes gonflaient ses paupières et coulaient, lourdes et rondes, le long de ses joues. Mais elle ne songeait pas à les essuyer. Elle oubliait, pour la première fois de sa vie peut-être, que le chagrin vieillit et abîme la figure.

Bereavement is a darkness impenetrable to the imagination of the unbereaved

I felt a deep grief that crouched and stayed still as if it was afraid to move.

His heart ached in such a familiar way, and the very familiarity of it pained him.