Quotes About Sorrow

Her eyes grew black, and her face went blank, but she held on, mouthing one word over and over—Samuel's name. Samuel went to his knees, too, his eyes white and wild.

But death isn't a tragedy to God, only to those left behind

Nothing says you're sorry like a dead bunny.

Because of sorrow, my awareness of life's pulse is strongly detectable. It is syncopation while I journey, a lap of ocean in the eyes of every person I meet. This awareness informs the flesh of my stories. Grief has been an odd companion, at first a terror, but now I am all the better having accepted it for its intrinsic worth.

Sadness is Steam rising Tears falling A breath you take in But can't let out As hard as you try.

Back at the hut, all my sister, they start to cry. "No crying," my aunt says, very strict. "You cry only in your mind." But later, when everyone else asleep, I hear my aunt, her tears, they fall like rain.

Stop thirsting for things that are bitter, Go crazy here, here in these arms that are still Wrapped around the absent shape of you, Go crazy with me, thrash about in our bed And weep and wail and call me by her name, At least have the courage to let our hearts break together.

I think of human singing, and note that angels are not said to sing. The gift of singing, of making music, and of composing songs may well be one of the greatest marks in man of the creator. Any serious listener of music must recognize the laments and the infinite sorrow expressed in much of our music. Do not our very musical notes ring with the lament of a broken man?

You don't get over sorrow; you work your way right to the centre of it.

There was a deep wisdom behind the orgiastic and hysterical aspects of ancient religion; there is much to be said in favour of this flinging open of the floodgates to grief. It might be argued that the decorous little services of the West, the hushed voices, the self-control, our brave smiles and calmness either stifle the emotion of sorrow completely, or drive it underground where it lodges and proliferates in a malign and dangerous growth that festers for a lifetime.

She was a pretty girl with an arid heart. Her fiancé had given her a chow-chow, but she didn't take care of it and left it with various people, as she would later do with me. The chow-chow killed itself by leaping from a window. The dog appears in two or three photos, and I have to admit that he touches me deeply and that I feel a great kinship with him.

Yer the only friend I got, pigpiss... Ain't that the biggest tragedy you ever heard?

And then his noise falls completely silent- And he stops struggling- And looking right into my eyes- He dies. My Todd dies.

Who will remember Todd? Who will remember what he did? Todd - Todd - And my heart breaks even more - Breaks forever - And I fall to my knees in the snow and sand - And I yell out, wordless and empty - And I drop the weapon.

Connor:I let her go. I could have held on but I let her go. The Monster:And that is the truth. Connor:I didn't mean it, though! I didn't mean to let her go! And now it's for real! Now she's going to die and it's my fault! The Monster:And that is not the truth at all.

HELP!" I race to the square, crossing it, looking all around, listening out- No . No . It's empty. Viola's breathing heavy in my arms . And Haven is empty. I reach the middle of the square. I don't see nor hear a soul. I spin around again. "HELP!" I cry. But there's no one. Haven's completely empty. There ain't hope here after all.

I remember the ache I used to feel when she got too close, how it felt like grief, how it felt like a loss, like I was falling, falling into nothing, how it clenched me up and made me want to weep, made me actually weep.

Being this close to her silence is like my heart breaking all over the place. I can feel it, like it's pulling me down into a bottomless pit, like it's calling for me to just fall and fall and fall.

He really is alone in whatever hell this is. Completely and utterly alone. 'It isn't,' he thinks, as he trudges back toward his house, 'the most unfamiliar feeling in the world.

He looks up and the loss in his Noise is so great it feels like i'm standing on the edge of an Abyss, that I'm about to fall down into him, into blackness so empty and lonely there'd never be a way out.

His Noise saying, No, no, not now, not NOW- And then he says, Viola? "I'm here, Todd," I say, my voice breaking, shouting with desperation. "I'm here!" And he says Voila? again- Asking it- Asking like he's not sure I'm there- And then his Noise falls completely silent- And he stops struggling- And looking right into my eyes- He dies. My Todd dies.

Jack, you have debauched my sloth.

It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die.

To be so lovely and so lost. To be all answerful with all that knowing trapped inside. To be beautiful and broken.