Quotes About Sorrow

Y había sido un joven tan extraordinario que, desde el mismo instante en que sus ojos, claros y brillantes como un cristal de nieve, se habían cruzado con los de ella, años atrás, la habían condenado a no poder amar jamás a ningún otro hombre.

When I built my luminous prison around you, you simply lay down at the center of it and died.

There is dancing and laughter in hell, an angel weeping openly on a park bench in heaven. My mother, dead and frantic in an attic. A white shirt on a floor. An old man in a wheelchair, rubbing his eyes. Here it is, here it is! the occupational therapists sing as they rise to the surface of the earth, smiling, bearing their terrible surprise.

Its sweet bird's nest is full of pain in a distant place

He felt her draw a little shuddering breath, and then a wet tumble of water on her cheek. She whispered, "God forgive, Jervaulx—that I sh'dovethee." That I should love thee.It broke the spell that held him. Had she said that? He pushed back, gazing at her.

Olivia watched him through a blur of tears, despising the futility of it. For there was nothing she could say to comfort a man whose family was long dead; there was no balm to heal wounds that scored a man's soul; and there was no way to make a man believe in the ties that bind.

Because whenever a woman kills her child, every other mother—at least, every one who's honest with herself—has a flash of sympathy. Not empathy. They don't want to have done it, cannot imagine doing it. But they know.

La Muerte tiene una hermana, más taimada y perseverante, que se llama Agonía. La dama Agonía me sostiene en sus brazos desde aquella vez-

I was the one with the open wound, and the river waters turned red when I bathed in them. My sadness is greater than the heavens.

And when your brother cries for her, I will feed on his tears.

I shut my eyes and feel the memories crowding in again. My breath leaks out and time goes backward with it.

My tears were hot and salty, and I imagine them melting my heart.

In my bedroom, I squeezed shut my eyes, because it was too hard, that memory. Too hard, too painful, too much like losing a slice of myself, which, in fact, I had.

How do you describe emptiness? Is it the air inside a bubble, the darkness in a pocket, snow? I think, yes, I was six when or seven when I first felt it, the dwindling that is depression.

asked his master for forgiveness, but received none.

There was no fatal illness, only the exhaustion of endless grieving.

It's been three days still haven't heard from you. My heart lives underwater breathing for you. But you break apart my tiny heart, giving me no chance to start something with you. I dove into the pool I dove in hoping to swim now I'm drowning.

Betrayal and grief have a certain color no matter what the species is.

Open the fridge and put My heart on a plate. I'm just as you left me, and I taste even better leftover.

La foto è il feticcio che ti dovrebbe riportare indietro il tempo, ma il guadagno coincide con la perdita: in cambio del ricordo di un te stesso precedente ricevi la consapevolezza di ciò che è definitivamente passato, dell'istante che non tornerà mai più mentre ciò che volevi era proprio fermarlo.

Kummer hat etwas in den Linien deines Gesichts zu suchen, nicht in deiner Erinnerung.

You are the end, and the beginning. ... When I die, my only regret will be that you could never reside in my heart to hear how it sings when you touch me.

I am sorry because there will never be enough time, not even in a hundred years from this day would be enough time for us to love

Who ever thinks, recalling the face of the one they loved who is gone: yes, I looked at you enough, I loved you enough, we had enough time, any of this was enough?