Quotes About Sorrow

Un-winged and naked, sorrow surrenders its crown to a throne called grace.

Poetry empowers the simplest of lives to confront the most extreme sorrows with courage, and motivates the mightiest of offices to humbly heed lessons in compassion.

Death wins nothing here, gnawing wings that amputate–– then spread, lift up, fly.

Your tears are muscles, hinged on wings lunar and solar. Your touch: life and death. (from poem Angel of Mercy)

It was called "Tizita"; there was no single equivalent English word. Tizita meant "memory tinged with regret." Was there any other kind, Ghosh wondered.

There is no harm in patience, and no profit in lamentation. Death is easier to bear (than) that which precedes it, and more severe than that which comes after it. Remember the death of the Apostle of God, and your sorrow will be lessened.

What if, instead of carrying a child, I am supposed to carry grief?

I slip into bed and lie there beside Your body like a buoy that the ocean resents. If I could just grab hold and find a way to paddle, If you could stop dragging your feet along the gravel. As a child I remember knowing how to float When sober was the wind and my body, the boat. Now each step is anchored and you continue to drift In the room where we pretend that we are alive, Where you and I commit the sin, and you and I forgive.

put on the white dress that you had once said made you look like an angel with its real swan feathers and fools gold. Then I sat for a long time in the night and waited. At dawn, I woke with feathers sticky on my tongue and I remembered you were dead all over again.

It's hard to imagine losing a family, to have someone you love just disappear like that.

The Second Mate closed his eyes for a moment. He removed his shoes, and now he had none. The look in his eyes said that the wrongest thing that had ever happened was happening right now. And then the shoes slipped from his hand and into the water. He pretended to look at the horizon so that no one would see his face.

Why do we weep once we know that everything will be alright? We weep because the only way everything could ever be alright is in fiction. We weep because what we've seen can't be true, no matter how badly we wish it were. We weep at the truth.

Ty mnie zabi?e?! - ty mnie nauczy?e? czyta?! W pi?knych ksi?gach i pi?knym przyrodzeniu czyta?! Ty dla mnie ziemi? piek?em zrobi?e? (z ?alem i u?miechem) i rajem! (mocniej i ze wzgard?) A to jest tylko ziemia!

Nie ?am twych r?czek, niewiasto m?oda, Nie p?acz, i r?czek, i oczu szkoda. Ten, po kim p?aczesz, wzajem nie b?y?nie Okiem ku tobie, r?ki nie ?ci?nie.

Wszystko przesz?o, a czemu? nie przejd? ?zy moje!

Fifteen years ago I killed my sister.

The world is filled with reasons to be downcast. But deeper than sorrow thrums the unbroken pulse of God's joy, a joy that will yet have its eternal day. To set our hearts on this joy reminds us that we can choose how we respond to any particular moment. We can search for God in all circumstances, or not. We can seek the pulse of hope and celebration because it is God's reality.

Andromache: See, I've stopped crying. I won't cry ever again, I promise you. Helen: Don't promise that. Never promise that. Tears are good sometimes. They clear the heart of sorrow. Cry.

In death I will look for a release from my sorrows and sleepless nights and from this nervous suffering. It takes only the fraction of a second - then one is cast free from all that and rests in eternal peace.

Joy, it seemed, came in unexpected bursts, buried among the mundane and ordinary, balanced by tragedy and sorrow.

THE USES OF SORROW by Mary Oliver (In my sleep I dreamed this poem) Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.

Only to have a grief equal to all these tears! There's not a sob in my chest. Dry hearted Peer Gynt I pare away, no hero, merely a cook.

Countless as the sands of the sea are human passions.

It was not the path I was to take. Because of my deeds, I will never know peace again.