Quotes About Sorrow

In my picture of the "Night Café" I have tried to express the idea that the café is a place where one can ruin oneself, go mad or commit a crime. So I have tried to express, as it were, the powers of darkness in a low public house

And the pilgrim goes on sorrowful yet always rejoicing - sorrowful because it is so far off and the road so long. Hopeful as he looks up to the eternal city far away, resplendent in the evening glow and he thinks of two old sayings that he heard long ago - the one is: "Much strife must be striven Much suffering must be suffered Much prayer must be prayed And then the end will be peace.

I cannot bear a mother's tears.

Unspeakable, O Queen, is the sorrow you bid me renew.

Here are the tears of things; mortality touches the heart.

I have known sorrow and learned to aid the wretched.

Thrice would I have thrown my arms about her neck, and thrice the ghost embraced fled from my grasp: like a fluttering breeze, like a fleeting dream.

Deep in her breast lives the silent wound.

Death's brother, sleep.

There is love and there is sorrow, but the gain outweighs the loss, if you will make it so.

C'est de l'amour qu'il veut lui faire entrer dans le corps et elle s'ouvre autant que possible. En même temps, elle se sent désolée. Son corps est encombrant, elle est enterrée vive sous lui. Nausée.

Joy, when it is excessive, overcomes as much as grief.

Felicity was more romantic. She's waiting for her lover. He's a sailor and she's watching for his ship to come in. Nobody's dared tell her it's been wrecked and her lover is at the bottom of the sea. She'll go on waiting and waiting until her red hair turns as white as his bones- Good.

I looked and looked at her, and I knew, as clearly as I know that I will die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth. She was only the dead-leaf echo of the nymphet from long ago - but I loved her, this Lolita, pale and polluted and big with another man's child. She could fade and wither - I didn't care. I would still go mad with tenderness at the mere sight of her face.

The photos I took in Afghanistan are lying in front of me. I peer into the faces of those who were with me there and who are so far away from me now, into the faces of those who were dying right next to me and those who were hiding behind my back. I can make these photos larger or smaller, darker or lighter. But what I can't do is bring back those who are gone forever.

Tears are the silent language of grief

Then Ardent, heavy hearted, turned away; sore for the rusted armor and the wasted days: but as Sir Constant saw his shield, and lo! the lost Emblem of the King was shining once more through its veil of dishonor. For the heart's tears of sorrow had fallen upon the shield, and where they had fallen they had burned away the shame and stain.

We know their dream; enough To know they dreamed and are dead; And what if excess of love Bewildered them till they died?

Never give all the heart, for love Will hardly seem worth thinking of To passionate women if it seem Certain, and they never dream That it fades out from kiss to kiss; For everything that's lovely is But a brief, dreamy, kind delight. O never give the heart outright, from "Never give all the heart

You who are bent, and bald, and blind, With a heavy heart and a wandering mind, Have known three centuries, poets sing, Of dalliance with a demon thing.

the soul cannot live without sorrow.

The wind blows over the lonely of heart, And the lonely of heart is withered away.

Zira güzellik bu dünyaya ait olmad???n? bilelim diye bizim aylakl?k ettiÄŸimiz yerde sürer üzünç dolu hayat?n?.

For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.