Quotes About Sorrow

Return as ever. Your eyes are my only conveyance to death's other face.

Grises pájaros en el amanecer son a la ventana cerrada lo que a mis males mi poema

Nadie debe confundir el amor con la dicha. Al contrario: a veces se piensa que amor y pena son una misma cosa.

El agua de Venecia esconde ya demasiada oscuridad y en el limo de la laguna no hay espacio para más. Venecia se levanta sobre los secretos y errores de los que quisieron venir aquí a olvidar y la ciudad se hunde sobre ellos.

Isabel's indelible absence is now an organ in our bodies whose sole function is a continuous secretion of sorrow.

Se quedó quieto, observando, aspirando el olor de la muerte. El cuello de Bernie estaba muy delgado, pero los lóbulos de las orejas, que ya habían alcanzado un tamaño enorme, eran grandes y carnosos. El cuerpo que yacía en aquella cama de hospital no debería pertenecer al padre que Joshua conocía. ¿Adónde había ido a parar el verdadero Bernie?

Silloin kuusi uhaten ravisti kihariansa kerran vielä ja kylvi alas latvastansa kimmeltävää lunta kuolevan poikansa peitteeksi, koska veren kuumassa virrassa pakeni sydämestä raitis henki ja hälveni höyrynä ilmaan.

And a while later: 'It is a strange sort of pain.' Softly. 'To die of yearning for something you'll never experience.

Amor tremendo è il mio. Tu nol conosci ancora, oh!. Tutto ancora non tel mostrai; tu eri mio: secura nel mio gaudio io tacea; nè tutto mai questo labbro pudico osato avria dirti l'ebbrezza del mio cor segreto" "Sparsa le trecce morbide sull'affannoso petto, lenta le palme, e rorido di morte il bianco aspetto, giace la pia, col tremolo sguardo cercando il ciel".

Maledetto colui che contrista un spirito immortal!

Egli le rispose che il perdono non bastava a desiderarlo né chiederlo; ch'era una cosa troppo agevole e troppo naturale a chiunque sia trovato in colpa, e tema la punizione.

I have lived a life full of love and pain, of Joy and Sorrow, and I live on still. i have many, many years ahead of me, each day with the potential to be filled to the brim with trials to face and challenges to overcome.

Then what is there for you? What is there for you if he does not love you?" Nothing.

Cette fleur parfaite, j'ai presque envie de la manger, de l'avaler pour remplacer la beauté que j'ai perdue.

I need to confront my loss, not run away from it. I wanted to wade in with my eyes open and all my senses alert. I wanted to register everything, from the giant waves of sorrow to the inkiest ripples of remorse. I didn't want to miss any of it.

The women would not be looking at him like this if he were carrying lilies, reflects Jean-Paul. Flowers have there own silent vocabulary. There are blooms for love, for friendship, for sorrow, and for joy. He inspect the roses he is carrying. Long-stemmed and elegant, they have been grown, selected, arranged, and purchased for a single, unambiguous purpose: to seduce.

How vastly preferable a forgiveness which means a giving for, and costs the Forgiver sorrow, sweat, pain, blood, wounds, death--a forgiveness coming from a God who says in effect: "I will not, to save sinners, repeal the law which connects sin with death as its penalty; but I am willing for that end to become myself the law's victim.

How often we sit weeping — you and I — over the life we lead! My friends, if you only knew the darkness of the days ahead!

stars, Where did such anguish come from?" And the stars tell him, The stars tell him everything.

Poor land, poor land, what do you mean to the heart that moves in me? Poor love, poor love, poor wife of mine, why do you weep so bitterly? (from Retribution book 2, I)

Without remorse, you calmly thrust your knife Into each heart that shared its love with you.

Sorrow seemed to me to be more like a road wound through life

You are never lost in sorrow, it seems to me, ever. You do know the way. In fact, you don't think there's any other. Sorrow seemed to me to be more like a road would through life, through the days of your life, like the old Roman ruins near the Tuileries or the rue d'Enfer -- underneath this life, but never really apart from it.

I could stand before him, be in his arms as I was just then, and still be lost to him, some phantom of a desire he cherished more than he cherished me, the woman he claimed to love.