Quotes About Sorrow

Sometimes just seeing a woman smile is like a knife in the heart. It hurts and it rattles your whole system, but against all your instincts you swallow the pain and keep looking. After a while you realize it doesn't hurt as much as you thought it would.

Oh God, look what you did." "God's away on business, Kas. Talk to me.

After a while, though, even the deepest sorrow faltered, even the most penetrating despair lost its scalpel edge.

men with guns stole our future by killing the best of our leaders, again and again—in one single tragic year, Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy. And day after day, death upon death, they steal our dreams by killing the people we love.

I loved you, Jim. I loved you with all my heart. And you left me. You left me when I needed you the most. It's too late, it's too late. You can't come back.

La seule chose qui soit pire que la mort, c'est d'assister à celle des gens qu'on aime.

It's like being dead without the commitment.

The Lost Battalion's final radio transmission was, "Patrol 442 here. Tell them we love them.

Precisely because she had tended and pitied, the desolation is hers as well.

It is good to divert our sorrow for other things to the root of all, which is sin. Let our grief run most in that channel, that as sin bred grief, so grief may consume sin.

We pull our boots on with both hands but we can't punch ourselves awake and all I can do is stand on the curb and say Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine. I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.

Who am I? I'm just a writer. I write things down. I walk through your dreams and invent the future. Sure, I sink the boat of love, but that comes later. And yes, I swallow glass, but that comes later.

We're shooting the scene where I swallow your heart and you make me spit it up again. I swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth. You swallow my heart and flee, but I want it back now, baby. I want it back.

I don't really blame you for being dead but you can't have your sweater back.

You cannot get in the way of anyone's path to God. You can, but it does no good. Every spy knows this. Somesay God is where we put our sorrow. God says, Which one of you fuckers can get to me first?

I'm sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.

Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.

And words, little words, words too small for any hope or promise, not really soothing

we laugh and it pits the world against us, we laugh, and we've got nothing left to lose

And you feel like you've done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you're tired.

so it's summer, so it's suicide, so we're helpless in sleep and struggling at the bottom of the pool.

we're shooting the scene where i swallow your heart and you make me spit it up again. i swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth. you swallow my heart and flee, but i want it back now, baby. i want it back.

Because every time she looked at me, she saw him, our son, that generous boy, and it was another gut punch bending her over, another parting of her flesh, and I was one of the thousand, and my gift to her now was my echo. (from "Twenty Reasons to Stay and One to Leave")

Weh! Weh! Süssestes Weib! Du traurigste aller Getreuen! Gegen dich wütet in Waffen die Welt: und ich, dem du einzig vertraut, für den du ihr einzig getrotzt, mit meinem Schutz nicht soll ich dich schirmen, die Kühne verraten im Kampf? Ha, Schande ihm, der das Schwert mir schuf, beschied er mir Schimpf für Sieg! Muss ich denn fallen, nicht fahr' ich nach Walhall: Hella halte mich fest!