Quotes About Sorrow

I have too grieved a heart To take a tedious leave. Thus losers part.

Now my soul's palace is become a prison; Ah, would she break from hence, that this my body Might in the ground be closed up in rest! For never henceforth shall I joy again, Never, O never, shall I see more joy!

Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones!

Our tears are not yet brewed.

Il y a quelque chose de pourri dans le royaume du Danemark.

If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, When other petty griefs have done their spite, But in the onset come: so shall I taste At first the very worst of fortune's might; And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, Compar'd with loss of thee will not seem so.

One woe doth tread upon another's heel. So fast they follow.

Welcome the sour cup of prosperity! Affliction may one day smile again, and till then, Sit thee down, sorrow!

Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it

CAPULET: Ready to go, but never to return. O son! the night before thy wedding-day Hath Death lain with thy wife. There she lies, Flower as she was, deflowered by him. Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir; My daughter he hath wedded: I will die, And leave him all; life, living, all is Death's.

No, coz, I rather weep. - Benvolio

The poor soul sat singing by a sycamore tree. Sing all a green willow: Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, Sing willow, willow, willow: The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans; Sing willow, willow, willow; Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones; Lay by these: Sing willow, willow, willow; Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon.

Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief; Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss: The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief To him that bears the strong offence's cross.

Woe doth the heavier sit where it perceives it is but faintly borne.

You hold too heinous a respect of grief. CONSTANCE. He talks to me that never had a son. KING PHILIP. You are as fond of grief as of your child. CONSTANCE. Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then have I reason to be fond of grief.

There's nothing in this world can make me joy. Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.

Gib Worte deinem Schmerz: Gram, der nicht spricht, / Presst das beladene Herz, bis dass es bricht.

Better thou hadst not been born than not t' have pleased me better.

Qué tristeza alarga las horas de Romeo? No tener lo que, al tenerlo, las abrevia.

repentance to the

Oh, Daddy, I don't know what's wrong. I've tried to grow up—to be a good little girl, as you would say, but everywhere I turn I seem to walk deeper and deeper into some terrible despair. What's wrong, Daddy? What's wrong? Why is happiness such a precious thing? What have we done with our lives so that everywhere we turn—no matter how hard we try not to—we cause other people sorrow?

He was made uneasy by unbraked hilarity and by extremes of sorrow alike, especially the latter; he preferred life to sail along pleasantly and evenly, and this, he knew, was for him a minor sort of tragedy.

loss. Loss in all of its manifestations is the touchstone of depression—in the progress of the disease and, most likely, in its origin

What causes human beings to inflict upon themselves these stupid little scissor snips of unhappy remembrance?