Quotes About Sorrow

Aw shit,' I said and I started to cry.

Yes, Buttercup replied. There was a very long pause. But I must never love again. She never did.

And I cannot touch her face  And I cannot touch her hair, And I kneel to empty shadows-- Just memories of her grace; And her voice sings in the winds And in the sobs of dawn And among the flowers at night And from the brooks at sunrise And from the sea at sunset, And I answer with vain callings  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

For life is all too short, dear, And sorrow is all too great, To suffer our slow compassion That tarries until too late; And it isn't the thing you do, dear, It's the thing you leave undone Which gives you a bit of a heartache At the setting of the sun.

A solemn state of mind is never crude or simple—it seems to contain a certain measure of its own opposite in solution. A solemn joy preserves a sort of bitter in its sweetness; a solemn sorrow is one to which we intimately consent.

I have some gold. I will interest you. Pity me. I beg you to help me.

In time, in time they tell me, I'll not feel so bad. I don't want time to heal me. There's a reason I'm like this. I want time to set me ugly and knotted with the loss of you, marking me. I won't smooth you away. I can't say goodbye.

Unsullied poverty is always happy, while impure wealth brings with it many sorrows.

One joy scatters a hundred griefs.

If you are patient in a moment of anger, you will escape one hundred days of sorrow.

One happiness scatters a thousand sorrows.

One joy shatters a hundred griefs

Hiçbir kral, hiçbir imparator, hiçbir hükümdar devletini yitirdi?i için Boranl? Yedigey kadar umutsuzlu?a dü?memi?, onun kadar ac? duymam?? ve a?lamam??t?.

This is the nature of sorrow; often it fades with time, but once in a while it remains lodged below the surface of things, a stubborn thorn beneath a fingernail, making itself felt every time you brush against it. (How well I knew this, for random events would startle me into the memory of a pair of ancient eyes.)

It's hard to tell them apart, what we bring upon ourselves and what destiny determines. They're as difficult to disentangle as love and sorrow.

But where love and sorrow bind people together, goodbyes are not so easily said. We were about to discover that.

Rage rises up in me until my whole body is scorched, for some kinds of burning don't require a fire. Not a word of love, not a word of apology for the sorrow he has caused me. Not a word about the unjust and cruel way in which he sent me away. He hasn't even called me by my name.

Around me celestial flowers are falling in a crystal shower. Or are they the tears of the gods who crowd the skies, looking down in sorrow and admiration at my final act of self-respect?

It is unfair that one person should suffer in order for others to be blessed. If the gods were powerful enough to shape our destinies, why couldn't they just send us a good fortune untainted by sorrow?

I heard the laments of the people of Hastinapur, their sorrow at losing us. But I no longer required their tears. It baffled me that as a younger women I'd thought that such a thing would make me happy.

It felt as though someone had reached into him and was wresting out his heart. In later life his sorrows would be deep-drawn and bone-aching sad, but never like this. Perhaps only the young can feel such exquisitely intense pain.

She taught me when to lie and when to speak the truth. She taught me to discover a man's hidden tragedies by reading the tremor in his voice. She taught me to close myself off from the sorrow of others so that I might survive. I understood that she was preparing me for the different situations that would appear in my life.

I think I was most envious of him then. He had been in the presence of a great and blissful mystery. He had glimpsed the truth of existence that extended beyond this oscillating world of pleasure and sorrow. I lay awake all night, my soul hungering to know what he had known.

The dream comes heralding joy. I welcome the dream. The dream comes heralding sorrow. I welcome the dream. The dream is a mirror showing me my beauty. I bless the dream. The dream is a mirror showing me my ugliness. I bless the dream. My life is nothing but a dream From which I will wake into death, which is nothing but a dream of life.