Quotes About Sorrow

An empty stomach is better than full and grief is better than happiness.

Darkness thickened and collapsed about him. Some of it never lifted again.

It was a long time since he'd done any actual clinical work, and obviously his sojourn among the academics at Saro University had attenuated the professional detachment that allows members of the healing arts to confront the ill without being overwhelmed by compassion and sorrow. He was surprised at that, how tenderhearted he seemed to have become, how thin-skinned.

He felt that dull, heart-choking pain that feeds on itself, the pain of a wife no longer by his side at waking, of a familiar world lost…

Heartbreak, as I judge from my limited experience, is the pain one feels at the loss of a love object, in the case where the love object, not returning the love, breaks off (whether kindly or cruelly) and disappears. The person you love is gone, but still exists, and is simply not available, This is a rather benign situation as compared with the irrevocable loss through death of someone you love, but it is, nevertheless, painful. For

But my gloom did not lessen. I knew that I'd had a bad dream, and I stood in the dark trying to recollect it. The second I closed my eyes, I was with the dead. They did things words cannot express. They spoke madness. (Hanka)

A slit throat cannot be sewn together again.

For in much wisdom is much grief,' Ecclesiastes said.

No existe luz sin sombra, tal como no existe dicha sin dolor.

My heart is broken, he told himself. It was at that moment he understood the profound meaning of that common phrase: he thought he heard the sound of glass breaking and felt that the essence of his being was pouring out until he was empty, with no memory of the past, no awareness of the present, no hope for the future.

Zacharie did not learn of the sorrow his wife was living becasue she was careful to hide it. Tete kept that first love, the stromngest in her life, a secret. She mentioned it only rarely because she could not offer Zacharie a passion of the same intensity; the relationship they shared was genntle and free of urgency.

Detente, sombra de mi amor esquivo, imagen del hechizo que más quiero, bella ilusión por quien alegre muero, dulce ficción por quien penosa vivo.   SOR JUANA INÉS DE LA CRUZ

Lloró creyendo que lloraba por el niño muerto y por Alma, pero lo hacía por sí mismo, por su vida mesurada y convencional, por el peso de las responsabilidades que nunca podría sacudirse de encima, por la soledad que lo agobiaba desde que nació, por el amor que añoraba y nunca tendría, por los naipes engañosos que le habían tocado y por todas las malditas tretas de su destino.

No era un dolor de músculos entumecidos, sino de tristezas acumuladas y de abandono

I said goodbye, kissed her, and asked her forgiveness for the sins of withholding and neglect. I thanked her for having existed, promised her that she would live on in my heart, and in her son's, begged her not to leave me, to visit me in dreams, to send me signs and clues, to return incarnated in every beautiful young woman I saw on the street, and to appear to me in spirit during the darkest hours of the night and in the days of the midday Sun.

Muereté, mi amor, suplico Ernesto de rodillas junto a la cama. Muereté hija, agregue yo en silencio, porque no me salio la voz...

His wife...always dressed in mourning for the children who died in infancy and squeezed breathless by the pressure of her corset, her religion, and the husband fate had dealt her

Walking and walking across the world he will gradually find consolation, and one day, when he is too fatigued to take another step, he will realize that he cannot escape sorrow, he will have to tame it, so it doesn't harass him.

Detente, sombra de mi amor esquivo, imagen del hechizo que más quiero, bella ilusión por quien alegre muero, dulce ficción por quien penosa vivo.

Isabel Allende

No sólo perdía a Rosa, su madre, los amigos, el trabajo y su pasado. Perdía su patria. —Mi país..., mi país... —sollozó.

I felt like I'd been emptied out from the inside, I was a bloody cavity, I couldn't breathe, my bones were made of wax, my soul had taken flight. And the world still turned as if nothing had happened: I stand up, take one step then another, find my voice and respond, I haven't lost my mind, I drink water, my mouth full of sand, my eyes burning, and my little girl stiff, frozen, sculpted in alabaster

Many years later, standing before a human head preserved in a jar of gin, Eliza would remember that first meeting with Joaquín Andieta and again experience the same unbearable anguish.

she goes and dies on me, betraying me before I can fulfill my dreams, and leaving me with this incurable despair.