Quotes About Sorrow

What have you done, you thereWeeping without cease,Tell me, yes you, what have you doneWith all your youth?

A vous ces vers, de par la grâce consolante De vos grands yeux où rit et pleure un rêve doux, De par votre âme, pure et toute bonne, à vous Ces vers du fond de ma détresse violente.

Donc, allez, vagabonds sans trêves, Errez, funestes et maudits, Le long des gouffres et des grèves, Sous l'œil fermé des paradis !

Tears are shed in my heart like the rain on the town. ( Il pleure dans mon coeur Comme il pleut sur la ville. )

Tired of life, afraid of death, not unlike A lost brig, toy of ebb and flow on the ocean, My soul weighs anchor for a frightful shipwreck.

Ton cÅ"ur bat-il toujours à mon seul nom ? - Toujours vois-tu mon âme en rêve ? - Non.

Autumn Song" translated by Arthur Symons When a sighing begins In the violins Of the autumn-song, My heart is drowned In the slow sound Languorous and long Pale as with pain, Breath fails me when The hours toll deep. My thoughts recover The days that are over, And I weep. And I go Where the winds know, Broken and brief, To and fro, As the winds blow A dead leaf.

Naivety can be a terrible thing. Jesus wept.

I wondered who the sky men had been, who came to destroy and kill those in the cities, and what bad thing had happened to them to make them worship death.

The accordion and the whores and the retching,' he said. 'That's our music.

I wished I had died before I ever loved anyone but her." What

I wished I had died before I ever loved anyone but her.

There is no cure for a bleeding heart.

Llorad de gozo, pues ella se ha hecho dueña del Horizonte! Había una nota triunfal en su cántico, y también un pesar más profundo que el que podían experimentar los demás. Cuando los otros respondieron: «¡Vive; ella vive para siempre!», Hatshepsut rompió a llorar. Sintió entonces que el inmenso puño de su

She felt as though she were a statue of ashes—bitter, useless, damned—like the salt statues of Gomorrah. For she was guilty. Those who love God, and by Him are abandoned in the dark of night, are guilty, because they are abandoned.

Some words were like that. Whole lives attached to them. Ghosts and lives and ecstasy and sorrow.

I don't want to die," whispered Marina. "and not feel just once what you feel." She struggled for her breath. "Just once in my life, Tania!" "Tanechka..." she whispered. What does it feel like?" Tatiana continued to gently caress Marina's forehead. "It feels," she whispered, "as if you're not alone.

The Bronze Horseman would pursue her into her grave. She felt it. Into her eternity, clambering behind her in the night and in the day, in every hour of sorrow, in every minute of weakness, in darkness, in light, through all of America he would be rattling at her heels, the way he had been relentlessly rattling at her through the past eleven hundred days, through the past eleven hundred nights, right into her maddening dust. How much longer for Tatiana's life?

They ooze blood out of their wounds and live inside their regret.

Please don't die," she whispered. "I don't think I can bury you. I already buried everyone else." "How can I die," Alexander said, his voice breaking, "when you have poured your immortal blood into me?

There is an alchemy in sorrow. It can be transmuted into wisdom, which, if it does not bring joy, can yet bring happiness.

There are many ways of breaking a heart. Stories were full of hearts broken by love, but what really broke a heart was taking away its dream -- whatever that dream might be.

Endurance of inescapable sorrow is something which has to be learned alone. And only to endure is not enough. Endurance can be a harsh and bitter root in one's life, bearing poisonous and gloomy fruit, destroying other lives. Endurance is only the beginning. There must be acceptance and the knowledge that sorrow fully accepted brings its own gifts. For there is an alchemy in sorrow. It can be transmuted into wisdom, which, if it does not bring joy, can yet bring happiness.

Sorrow fully accepted brings its own gifts. For there is alchemy in sorrow. It can be transmitted into wisdom, which, if it does not bring joy, can yet bring happiness.