Quotes About Tears

Es sind tausend Tropfenin einer Weltnur für uns gemachtTausend Tropfenwenn der Himmel weintund man dennoch lacht

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness but of power. They are messengers of overwhelming grief and unspeakable love.

Empathy feels these thoughts; your hurt is in my heart, your loss is in my prayers, your sorrow is in my soul, and your tears are in my eyes.

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, our faith triumphant o'er our fears, are all with thee – are all with thee!

No repentance, obedience, self-denial, prayers, tears, reformation or ordinances, without the new creation, avail any thing to the salvation of thy soul.

You've been cold to me so long, I'm crying icicles instead of tears.

Only someone who had cried a great deal understands why someone else wants to stop the tears.

When a father gives to his son, both laugh; when a son gives to his father, both cry.

Women's weapon, water-drops

Let not women's weapons, waterdrops,Stain my man's cheeks!

Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am boundUpon a wheel of fire, that mine own tearsDo scald like molten lead.

To weep is to make less the depth of grief.

The big round tearsCours'd one another down his innocent noseIn piteous chase.

And if the boy have not a woman's giftTo rain a shower of commanded tears,An onion will do well for such a shift.

Yet tears to human suffering are due; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone.

The clouds that gather round the setting sunDo take a sober coloring from an eyeThat hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;Another race hath been, and other palms are won.Thanks to the human heart by which we live,Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,To me the meanest flower that blows can giveThoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

I have slept Weeping, and weeping I have waked; my tears Have flow'd as if my body were not such As others are, and I could never die.

The most efficient water power in the world - women's tears.

Some time in the night I got up, tiptoed to my window, and looked out at my doghouse. It looked so lonely and empty sitting there in the moonlight. I could see that the door was slightly ajar. I thought of the many times I had lain in my bed and listened to the squeaking of the door as my dogs went in and out. I didn't know I was crying until I felt the tears roll down my cheeks.

I cried all the way to the bank.

I like poems where you don't really know whether to laugh or cry when you read them.

The reason she was crying didn't matter to me. Perhaps there was no reason at all. Her tears had that sort of purity.

I don't really know why I'm crying. I can't explain it myself, much less stop it.

A lightning flash lit up the shadows. Rain was falling gently. The window panes themselves were weeping. Be careful, Younes, I thought, you're wallowing in self-pity. But what did that matter? This was what I saw: the windows crying. I wanted to see tears streak the window panes, I wanted to feel sorry for myself, I wanted to dissolve body and soul into my grief.