Quotes About Sorrow

That's really nice." I picture my mother and my aunt, a little over four years apart in age, curled up in the same bed, sharing innocent games of Let's Pretend. It makes the present situation seem that much sadder. Should geography and real estate signs outweigh the bonds formed by the shared milestones of childhood?

This music of old age…it isn't made for dancing. It's so…lonely. You're a burden to everyone.

news guts me out like a fish. I'm empty inside. My mama's gone from this world? She's gone from this world, and I'll never get to see her again?

One by one, drops fell from her eyes like they were on an assembly line - gather, fall, slide...gather, fall, slide...each one commemorating something she had lost. Hope. Faith. Confidence. Pride. Security. Trust. Independence. Joy. Beauty. Freedom. Innocence.

Maybe being winged means being wounded by infinity.

My tongue remembers your wounded flavor. The vein in my neck adores you. A sword stands up between my hips, my hidden fleece sends forth its scent of human oil.

But, no one can tell without cease our human story, and so we lose, lose

Where is his father? When will his mother be home? How is he going to explain the moon taken hostage, the sea risen to fill up all the mirrors? How is he going to explain the branches beginning to grow from his ribs and throat, the cries and trills starting in his own mouth? And now that ancient sorrow between his hips, his body's ripe listening; the planet knowing itself at last.

There are few sorrows in which a good income is of no avail.

There are few sorrows, however poignant, in which a good income is of no avail.

He wept, and it felt as if the tears were cleansing him, as if his body needed to empty itself.

Tant bien que mal, avant j'aimais la vie, parce qu'on l'avait en commun. Avant, j'aimais la vie, même sachant tout ce que je savais, car dans l'immensité du vide, il était là qui souriait. Aujourd'hui, je chéris un fantôme, un souvenir. Je pense encore à lui chaque jour, chaque minute, chaque seconde…

I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, The manifold, soft charms, That fill the haunted chambers of the Night, Like some old poet's rhymes.

A great sorrow, like a mariner's quadrant, brings the sun at noon down to the horizon, and we learn where we are on the sea of life.

Death, vicious death, Leave a green branch for love.

Little black horse. Where are you taking your dead rider?

Oh, what grief not to have grief, and to spend your life on the colorless grass of the undecided path!

For each kiss I gave you a huge cluster of tears!

All tragedies are finished by a death, all comedies by a marriage.

Oh too convincing - dangerously dear - In woman's eye the unanswerable tear

They grieved for those who perished with the cutter, and also for the biscuit casks and butter.

Where all have gone, and all must go To be the nothing that I was 'Ere born to life and living woe!

Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.

Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.