Quotes About Sorrow

my grief at being eternally excluded…

Cay buruktu. Bilirsiniz, buruk olur tadi yuceligin.

Tener segreto questo pensiero fu piacevole e allo stesso tempo triste. Quando sentivano di riuscire a volare insieme, spinti dalla potenza dell'amore, dovunque in quel cielo fino alla lontana riva opposta, l'idea di possedere le ali rendeva così reale le loro fantasie. purtroppo entrambi, credendo che solo l'altro avesse le ali, provarono un immenso sconforto perchè erano sicuri che un giorno o l'amato sarebbe volato via da solo".

L]oss is the necessary source of a new manifestation. Some night I might see my emerald ring appear as a green star somewhere in the sky.

She lives between the Vale of Kashmir & nirvana, beneath a bipolar sky. The voice speaks of an atlas & a mask, a map of Punjab, an ugly scar from college days on her abdomen, the unsaid credo, but I still can't make the voice say, Look, I'm sorry. I've been dead for a long time.

Say something about real love. Yes, true love—more than parted lips, than parted legs in sorrow's darkroom of potash & blues. Let the brain stumble from its hidingplace, from its cell block, to the edge of oblivion to come to itself, sharp-tongued as a boar's grin in summer moss —Yusef Komunyakaa, from "Safe Subjects," Neon Venacular: New and Selected Poems (Wesleyan University Press, 1993)

Sometimes there are more tears than laughter, and sometimes there is more laughter than tears, and sometimes you feel so choked you can neither weep nor laugh. For tears and laughter there will always be so long as there is human life. When our tear wells have run dry and the voice of laughter is silenced, the world will be truly dead.

I like spring, but it is too young. I like summer, but it is too proud. So I like best of all autumn, because its leaves are a little yellow, its tone mellower, its colours richer, and it is tinged a little with sorrow and a premonition of death. Its golden richness speaks not of the innocence of spring, nor of the power of summer, but of the mellowness and kindly wisdom of approaching age. It knows the limitations of life and is content.

Living is cold and technical without you, a death mask of itself.

I obtained life because the time was right. I will lose life because it is time. Those who go quietly with the flow of nature are not worried by either joy or sorrow. People like these were considered in the past as having achieved freedom from bondage. Those who cannot free themselves are constrained by things.

We name it and let sorrow's lightning discharge through us. And it's not like we're free even then. We move forward companioned with spirits. This place of desolation is one we will visit often. It is here we learn to be permeable as an estuary, to breathe more deeply. To open our hands.

A man dies when hope flies.

Mrs. Ivanov's gentle face was pale and bewildered, her wrinkles falling in on themselves as though they'd given up trying to hold on to any expression other than sorrow.

Of her six kids she'd buried all of her sons, the five young men having succumbed to the streets of Baltimore.

Uncle Cor once had asked Vincent if he would feel anything for a woman or a girl who was beautiful, 'but I said I would have more feeling for and would prefer to be involved with one who was ugly or old or impoverished or in some way unhappy, who has acquired understanding and a soul through experience of life and trial and error, or sorrow.' -Vincent Van Gogh

Time has shattered, it's cracked like my lips.

Time has shattered, it's cracking like my lips.

Tears fall from his eyes and arrange themselves on his cheek like Man Ray tears.

But now I know, while beauty lives So long will live my power to grieve.

Through the blur, I wondered if I was alone or if other parents felt the same way I did - that everything involving our children was painful in some way. The emotions, whether they were joy, sorrow, love or pride, were so deep and sharp that in the end they left you raw, exposed and yes, in pain. The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that - a parent's heart bared, beating forever outside its chest.

I shall not be there. I shall rise and pass. Bury my heart at Wounded Knee. —STEPHEN VINCENT BENET

When Joseph died on September 21, 1904, the agency physician reported the cause of death as "a broken heart.

If he didn't love so deeply, he couldn't grieve so deeply. But he's drowning in it.

El pesar nos envejece prematuramente, cuando estas en deuda emocional eres pesimista con respecto al futuro, y aun en tus años de plenitud, ansias volver al pasado para remediar las carencias de amor y oportunidad que sufriste. a veces ansias mas atención, pasar mas tiempo con alguien que ya no esta, tener la oportunidad de hablar francamente y desprenderte de tu carga emocional, o solo resolver tu confusión descubriendo, por fin, lo que realmente ocurrió