Quotes About Sorrow

Love was now a mild streamlet that advanced in drips around my feet; despite how hard I worked at tenderness, I could not drown in a thing that shallow.

No, thats not how it happened... Mr crepsley dropped. He was impaled on the stakes. He died. And it was awful... His cries as he writhed there, bleeding and dying, burning and screaming, will stay with me till I die. Maybe I'll even carry them with me after I go.

Mr. Crepsley was every bit as composed as he'd sworn he would be. He didn't even shed a tear when the funeral litter was set alight. It was only later, when he was alone in his cell, that he wept loudly, and his cries echoed through the corridors and the tunnels of Vampire Mountain, far in the cold, lonely dawn.

Later that day, shortly before the sun sank in the wintry sky, despite the best efforts of the medics, Arra Sails closed her eyes, made peace with the gods of the vampires, breathed her last...and died.

Oh, cariño!, no fue solamente por eso, habría acudido a ti tarde o temprano. Desde el primer día que te vi supe que… —¡Ángel mío! —dijo Spade con ternura—. Mira, si tienes suerte dentro de veinte años saldrás de San Quintín, y entonces me vienes a buscar.

There has not been a beautiful death in the history of mankind.

the gimmickry is simply a device, a defense, to obscure the black, blinding, murderous rage and sorrow at the core of this whole story, which is both too black and blinding to look at ---avert your eyes!--- but nevertheless useful, at least to the author, even in caricatured or condensed form, because telling as many people as possible about it helps, he thinks, to dilute the pain and bitterness and thus facilitate its flushing from his soul

But it felt good to cry, to let her shoulders shake, to feel the hot tears on her face, to taste their baby salt, to wipe snot all over the underside of her shirt.

There are times in everyone's life when loss strikes. When one's heart breaks. And there are times when you truly feel as though you have no heart left, so shattered is it.

He had walked away, head down, feet shuffling, looking very much like a young man who had lost everything of value in his life.

d'un homme qui a perdu tout ce qu'il aimait et qui, depuis, n'est plus tout à fait de ce monde.

As everything becomes bad in you, all the good goes out of the world like air out of a big broken balloon.

With words and tears she has amputated something form me. I gave her the intimate importance of me, and her bus pulled away, leaving something key of mine inside her like the weapon of a bee. All I want to do now is drive very away, to bleed.

With words and tears, she has amputated something from me. I gave her the intimate importance of me, and her bus pulled away, leaving something key of mine inside her like the weapon of a bee. All I want to do now is drive very away, to bleed.

In a patch of silver the Rev. Carlisle stopped and raised his face to the full moon, where it hung desolately, agonizingly bright - a dead thing, watching the dying earth.

I can't help always falling upon it, and cry out with particular loudness and wailing, and become especially melancholy, when I see a dead love tied to a live love.

But it's a changeable world! When we consider how great our sorrow seem , and how small they are ; how we think we shall die of grief, and how quickly we forget, I think we ought to be ashamed of ourselves and our fickle-heartedness. For, after all, what business has Time to bring us consolation?

For hope is dead, for hope is dead.

Love, who changest all, change me nevermore! Love, who changest all, change my sorrow sore!

Vy ale nejste mrtvá, Lauro. Ale ano, jdem. Lauro! vykÃ…â"¢íkl Tracy. Pro boha živého, Lauro, já vás miluju. Promi?te, omlouvala se Laura. Promi?te, ale myslím, že budu radÅ¡i mrtvá.

In the time of your life, live - so that in this wondrous time you shall not add to the misery and sorrow of the world, but shall smile to the infinite variety and mystery of it.

Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.