Quotes About Sorrow

I will indulge my sorrows, and give way to all the pangs and fury of despair.

We're in a freefall into future. We don't know where we're going. Things are changing so fast, and always when you're going through a long tunnel, anxiety comes along. And all you have to do to transform your hell into a paradise is to turn your fall into a voluntary act. It's a very interesting shift of perspective and that's all it is... joyful participation in the sorrows and everything changes.

Love is the burning point of life, and since all life is sorrowful, so is love. The stronger the love, the more the pain. Love itself is pain, you might say -the pain of being truly alive. [...] But love bears all things. [...] Love itself is pain, you might say - the pain of being truly alive.

Life will always be sorrowful. We can't change it, but we can change our attitude toward it.

Participate joyfully in the sorrows of the world. We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy. The warrior's approach is to say "yes" to life: "yea" to it all.

In marriage you are not sacrificing yourself to the other person. You are sacrificing yourself to the relationship. You become mature when you become the authority of your own life. Life will always be sorrowful. We can't change it, but we can change our attitude toward it. Awe is what moves us forward.

Love is the burning point of life, and since all life is sorrowful, so is love. The stronger the love, the more the pain. Love itself is pain, you might say -the pain of being truly alive.

When the Buddha declares there is escape from sorrow, the escape is Nirvana, which is not a place, like heaven, but a psychological state of mind in which you are are released from desire and fear. And your life becomes harmonious, centered and affirmative. Even with suffering. The Buddhists speak of the bodhisattva - the one who knows immortality, yet voluntarily enters into the field of the fragmentation of time and participates willingly and joyfully in the sorrows of the world.

In Buddhist systems, more especially those of Tibet, the meditation Buddhas appear in two aspects, one peaceful and the other wrathful. If you are clinging fiercely to your ego and its little temporal world of sorrows and joys, hanging on for dear life, it will be the wrathful aspect of the deity that appears. It will seem terrifying. But the moment your ego yields and gives up, that same meditation Buddha is experienced as a bestower of bliss.

The weeping Pleiads wester, And the moon is under seas; From bourn to bourn of midnight Far sighs the rainy breeze: It sighs from a lost country To a land I have not known; The weeping Pleiads wester, And I lie down alone.

Je hoeft je heus niet te verontschuldigen voor Vrolijkheid en Blijheid enzo. Die dingen komen nu eenmaal voor. Sombere raad van Iejoor

When I was one-and-twentyI heard him say again,"The heart out of the bosomWas never given in vain;'Tis paid with sighs aplentyAnd sold for endless rue."And I am two-and-twenty,And Oh, 'tis true, 'tis true.

There's this to say of love and breath -- They give a man a taste for death.

Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man.

They say my verse is sad: no wonder. Its narrow measure spans Rue for eternity, and sorrow Not mine, but man's This is for all ill-treated fellows Unborn and unbegot, For them to read when they're in trouble And I am not.

It nods and curtseys and recovers When the wind blows above, The nettle on the graves of lovers That hanged themselves for love. The nettle nods, the wind blows over, The man, he does not move, The lover of the grave, the lover That hanged himself for love.

With Rue My Heart Is Laden With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade.

The mother says to her daughter: The heart is an island. To reach it, You must cross salt water. This is what the daughter fears: That joy, like sorrow, Must be reached by shipwreck, Tossed on the flotsam of tears.

And as man turned from the light of day, all that was left to him was the endless night. Without contrast, he threw open his arms, and darkness took hold.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, all that stuff. Death takes everyone. Most of us too early, a few of us not early enough.

Su ölüye hediyedir. Ölünün ruhu hayata susam??l?kla kavrulur ve an?lar?n suyundan içmeyi arzular ama yaln?zca unutulman?n suyundan içebilir.

memory of her grief

I could not help it. I began to sob. For the father I had never known, and for his desperate escapade which had filled everyone else with pain. But mainly I sobbed for myself, for the shambles I had made of my life, for what I had already lost and for what I feared I was still to lose.

War poisons the land/ Like diseased minds downloaded/ into bowls of tears.