Quotes About Sorrow

Death takes in many people, but still lives alone.

I'd gotten someone killed.The price people seem to pay for crossing my path.

What kind of dark, twisted mind preys on young women? I think it was Poe that said the death of a beautiful woman is the most poetical thing in the universe, and if that was true… I was John Milton.

Is this what it's like? he wondered. When you're about to die? One hand stretched back to someone who cares for you, the other reaching for a place you can't see.

Death isn't a tragedy to God, only to those left behind.

We cry for ourselves, don't we? Not for the dead. The dead are past caring.

Death is the dance of Life.

They buried him in dirt that smelled like broken batteries, and crouched in a fiberglass shed while the acid rain poured down to dissolve his flesh and bleach his bones.

I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade.

A tragedy need not have blood and death it's enough that it all be filled with that majestic sadness that is the pleasure of tragedy.

All human suffering springs from unbridled desire. Unless one extricates oneself from the clutch of greed, one will not free himself from the fetters of sorrow.

The end of desire is the end of sorrow.

I've discovered over the years that the simplest explanation is almost always the right one; and that hunger of one kind or another - desire, by another name - is the source of almost every sorrow.

The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow.

Sorrow also fulfills Desire. Example: the Soaps.

Dying for dark - the darker the worse. Strange.

God's gift to his sorrowing creatures is a joy worthy of their destiny.

Only by joy and sorrow does a person know anything about themselves and their destiny. They learn what to do and what to avoid.

I know that nothing comes to pass but what God appoints; our fate is decreed, and things do not happen by chance, but every man's portion of joy and sorrow is predetermined.

There is one type of ideal woman very seldom described in poetry - the old maid, the woman whom sorrow or misfortune prevents from fulfilling her natural destiny.

I feel that books, just like people, have a destiny. Some invite sorrow, others joy, some both.

By things so achingly small are lives measured and marred.

Sweet dreams though the guns are booming.

Christmas is not a time for laughter. Christmas is a time for pain.