Quotes About Sorrow

Moreover, all his days he eats in darkness, with much sorrow, sickness, and anger.

Sorrow is better than laughter, for a sad countenance is good for the heart.

So banish sorrow from your heart, and cast off pain from your body, for youth and vigor are fleeting.

O daughters of Jerusalem, I adjure you, if you find my beloved, tell him I am sick with love.

And the gates of Zion will lament and mourn; destitute, she will sit on the ground.

Cry aloud, O Daughter of Gallim! Listen, O Laishah! O wretched Anathoth!

This is the burden against Moab: Ar in Moab is ruined, destroyed in a night! Kir in Moab is devastated, destroyed in a night!

Dibon goes up to its temple to weep at its high places. Moab wails over Nebo, as well as over Medeba. Every head is shaved, every beard is cut off.

In its streets they wear sackcloth; on the rooftops and in the public squares they all wail, falling down weeping.

My heart cries out over Moab; her fugitives flee as far as Zoar, as far as Eglath-shelishiyah. With weeping they ascend the slope of Luhith; they lament their destruction on the road to Horonaim.

For their outcry echoes to the border of Moab. Their wailing reaches Eglaim; it is heard in Beer-elim.

Therefore let Moab wail; let them wail together for Moab. Moan for the raisin cakes of Kir-hareseth, you who are utterly stricken.

So I weep with Jazer for the vines of Sibmah; I drench Heshbon and Elealeh with my tears. Triumphant shouts have fallen silent over your summer fruit and your harvest.

Therefore my heart laments for Moab like a harp, my inmost being for Kir-heres.

The workers in cloth will be dejected, and all the hired workers will be sick at heart.

Therefore I said, “Turn away from me, let me weep bitterly! Do not try to console me over the destruction of the daughter of my people.”

On that day the Lord GOD of Hosts called for weeping and wailing, for shaven heads and the wearing of sackcloth.

Wail, O ships of Tarshish, for your harbor has been destroyed!

The new wine dries up, the vine withers. All the merrymakers now groan.

They no longer sing and drink wine; strong drink is bitter to those who consume it.

In the streets they cry out for wine. All joy turns to gloom; rejoicing is exiled from the land.

Beat your breasts for the pleasant fields, for the fruitful vines,

and for the land of my people, overgrown with thorns and briers—even for every house of merriment in this city of revelry.

Behold, their valiant ones cry aloud in the streets; the envoys of peace weep bitterly.