Quotes About Sorrow

I've just stopped talking to you. It seems so strange. It's perfectly peaceful here--they're playing bowls--I'd just put flowers in your room. And there you sit with the bombs falling around you. What can one say-- except that I love you and I've got to live through this strange quiet evening thinking of you sitting there alone. Dearest-- let me have a line... You have given me such happiness...

How could one express in words these emotions of the body? Express that emptiness there? It was one's body feeling, not one's mind. To want and not to have sent all up her body a hardness, a hollowness, a strain. And then to want and not to have - to want and want - how that wrung the heart, and wrung it again and again.

My heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

This late age of the world's experience had bred in them all, all men and women, a well of tears.

She felt drawing further from her and further from her an Archduke, (she did not mind that) a fortune, (she did not mind that) the safety and circumstance of married life, (she did not mind that) but life she heard going from her, and a lover.

There was an embrace in death.

His wife was crying, and he felt nothing; only each time she sobbed in this profound, this silent, this hopeless way, he descended another step into the pit.

Every single thing [...] he found thus cumbered with other matter like the lump of grass which, after a year at the bottom of the sea, is grown about with bones and dragon-flies, and coins and the tresses of drowned women.

In her eyes shone the sweetness of melancholy.

To some few friends, and to thy sorrows sing, For groves of laurel thou wert nevermeant; Be dark enough thy shades, and be thou there content.

Little Mr. Bowley, who had rooms in the Albany and was sealed with wax over the deeper sources of life but could be unsealed suddenly, inappropriately, sentimentally, by this sort of thing––poor women waiting to see the Queen go past––poor women, nice little children, orphans, widows, the War––tut tut––actually had tears in his eyes.

The earth hangs heavy beneath me.

A imensa autopiedade dele, sua exigência de compaixão jorrava e se espraiava em poças aos pés dela, e a única coisa que ela fazia, miserável pecadora que era, era arrepanhar um pouco a saia em volta dos tornozelos para não se molhar.

Pareva più il ricordo del dolore che il dolore stesso.

Åžimdi ac?m? mendilime saraca??m. S?ms?k? düÄŸüm olacak.

and yet Nancy felt, it might be true that she minded losing her brooch, but she wasn't crying only for that. She was crying for something else. We might all sit down and cry, she felt. But she did not know what for.

This late age of the world's experience had bred in them all, all men and women, a well of tears. Tears and sorrows; courage and endurance; a perfectly upright and stoical bearing.

Never did anybody look so sad.

Dünyan?n öylesine çabuk yitip gidecek güzelliÄŸinin iki ucu vard?r, biri kahkaha diÄŸeri kederdir ve kalbi paramparça ederler.

O amor, para ele, não passara de cinzas e serragem. As alegrias que dele extraíra não tinham gosto nenhum.

Quanh Ä'ây, nó nghÄ©, kh?a nh?ng ngón tay c?a nó trong lòng nÆ°á»›c, có má»™t con thuy?n Ä'ã b? ??m, nó th?m thì má»™t cách mÆ¡ màng, ná»­a mê ná»­a t?nh, chúng ta b? m?ng t?ng ng??i, Ä'Æ¡n Ä'á»™c bi?t bao.

I was weeping again, drunk on the impossible past.

I was the shadow of the waxwing slain/By the false azure in the windowpane...

It is nothing but a kind of microcosmos of communism—all that psychiatry,' rumbled Pnin, in his answer to Chateau. 'Why not leave their private sorrows to people? Is sorrow not, one asks, the only thing in the world people really possess?