Quotes About Sorrow

Soon. She knew. Soon he would come visiting. Incarnadine and sweet and sad and broken. Just like her.

Her name was like an echo of an ache in her.

As he continued to load the barrow, he moved slower and slower, like a machine winding down. Eventually he stopped completely and stood for a long minute, still as stone. Only then did his composure break. And even with no one there to see, he hid his face in his hands and wept quietly, his body wracked with wave on wave of heavy, silent sobs.

I guess I'm doomed to die loveless.

No. You should take pleasure in following the Lethani. If you fight well, you should take pride in doing a thing well. For the fighting itself you should feel only duty and sorrow. Only barbarians and madmen take pleasure in combat. Whoever loves the fight itself has left the Lethani behind.

Auri merely stood there for a long moment. She thought that she might cry, but when she felt around inside herself she found she had no crying left. She was full of broken glass and burrs.

O consolo trazido pelas garrafas e pelos livros se apagou num segundo, não deixando em seu olhar nada além de vazio e dor.

intensity of indifference that only grief can promote.

She shook her head vigorously, refusing to look at me as tears started to spill down her cheeks. "It's not fine. I should have known. You hold it like it's your baby. If anyone in my life had ever looked at me the way you look at that lute, I'd …

There is no joy!" Lanre shouted in an awful voice. Stones shattered at the sound and the sharp edges of echo came back to cut at them. "Any joy that grows here is quickly choked by weeds. I am not some monster who destroys out of a twisted pleasure. I sow salt because the choice is between weeds and nothing." Selitos saw nothing but emptiness behind his eyes.

Lloraba en silencio por ella misma, porque había algo profundamente herido en su interior. Yo ignoraba qué era, ni me atrevía a preguntárselo. Me limitaba a decir lo que podía para calmar su dolor y la ayudaba a cerrar los ojos para rehuir la realidad.

Sus excrementos era todo lo que daba al mundo; ni una sonrisa, ni un grito, ni un destello en la mirada, ni siquiera el propio olor.

There was only one thing the perfume could not do. It could not turn him into a person who could love and be loved like everyone else. So, to hell with it he thought. To hell with the world. With the perfume. With himself

Love is bitter sweet never to be perfect but just what the body, heart, and mind aches for...and the lips oooh~ to die another day just to kiss the love it miss. My heaven, my hell, my pain, my love…my life! Killing me slowly….oooh~ so sweet and slowly with your kiss. To have loved than have never loved at all I would rather die so forever slowly.

What is the song about? I asked. -Death, he answered with a laugh. But don't worry, nobody dies, it is the death of love.

I have a lock of his hair, a handful of his ashes, a box of his letters, a goatskin tambourine. And in the folds of faded violet tissue a necklace, two violet plaques etched in Arabic, strung with black and silver threads, given to me by the boy who loved Michelangelo.

My mother was real and her son was real. When he died she buried him. Now she is dead. Mother Courage and her children, my mother and her son. They are all stories now.

Dread has become fact. Innocence has turned into guilt, and hope is a word that rhymes with despair.

Dead or not, he must taste my Sarah's ashes.

I will stay with her until it is time to close her eyelids wrap the wretched sheet around her bones.

Everyone is broken-hearted except for the drastically unimaginative

Foy gave me the same sorrowful look the missionaries must've given the jungle heathen. A look that said, It doesn't matter if you're too stupid to understand God's love. He loves you regardless, just hand over the women, the distance runners, and the natural resources.

Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken dich nachts wir trinken dich mittags und morgens wir trinken dich abends wir trinken und trinken

You Were My Death You were my death: you I could hold when all fell away from me.