Quotes About Tears

Jesus weeps and loves me still.

Your face is marked with lines of life, put there by love and laughter, suffering and tears. It's beautiful.

Love cries victory when the tears of a woman become the sole defence of her virtue.

Every time I look down on this timeless town, whether blue or gray be her skies, whether loud be her cheers, or whether soft be her tears, more and more do I realize that...I love Paris.

We continue to love in spite of the pain, tears & heartbreak. Perhaps the pain makes us stronger, the tear makes us braver & the heartbreak makes us wiser.

She cried like someone heartbroken.

I heard the priest murmur the familiar recitation about dust and ashes and my eyes filled with tears. I wiped them away with a handkerchief.

então eu chorei. sem soluçar desta vez. as lágrimas saíam em silêncio e me diziam que mais alguma coisa estava me deixando. culpa. medo. e algumas outras coisas para as quais eu ainda não tinha encontrado nomes.

Las lágrimas me abandonaron en silencio, señal de que algo más me abandonaba. La culpa. El miedo. Otras emociones para las que no tenia palabras.

Lloré. Esta vez no fueron unos sollozos. Las lágrimas me abandonaron en silencio, señal de que algo más me abandonaba. La culpa. El miedo. Otras emociones para las que no tenía palabras

So what was the hardest part?' Mr Gopnik said. 'I'm sorry?' 'Of working for William Traynor. It sounds like quite a challenge.' I hesitated. The room was suddenly very quiet. 'Letting him go.' I said. And found myself unexpectedly biting back tears.

By going "ah" and "hah" they were able to lift the unrelenting pain of their dark, bestial days into something more recreational. It is only through the godly gift of humor that man endures the horror. What other faculty allows you to turn pain into triumph? Tears of sadness into tears of laughing too hard?

We all laughed, but it wasn't really a room for laughter. Nor for tears, oddly, or for anger, or for any emotion other than a sort of solemnity. It was the place of absence; we were in the presence of something that had left. It was like coming to a valley where someone had once shouted, loud and joyously, and the echo of that shout had resonated between the hills and lasted a long time. But now it had vanished, and you stood on the same spot, and it was not the same.

Behold his funeral appears,Nor widow's sighs, nor orphan's tears,Wont at such times each heart to pierce,Attend the progress of his hearse.And what of that? his friends may say,He had those honors in his day.True to his profit and his pride,He made them weep before he died.

The tears come to my eyes so fast, there's just no way to stop them.

To mix the brew that wakes Death sleep Fill one spread hand with silver deep. In hungry pool moons raise their heads: Pluck one and add the tears it sheds. Stir slowly with new fighter's quill, Three times, no more, and let it still. Add venom from your greatest fear-- One drop--and then the truth is clear.

mi viene in mente che i miei sentimenti - i sentimenti di tutti - sono inutili, andranno persi, lacrime nella pioggia.

My heart was an onion making me cry.

And then I did what I had never done in his presence, much less in his arms. I cried.

In all his imaginings, he had never envisioned her crying. He knew that her son had died, but he'd never expected that her pain might be anything he could recognize, almost as though he believed that Negroes had their own special kind of grieving ritual, another language, something other than tears they used to express their sadness.

The tears stream down my cheeks from my unblinking eyes. What makes me weep so? There is nothing saddening here. Perhaps it is liquefied brain.

God washes the eyes by tears until they can behold the invisible land where tears shall come no more.

Some days, Rafe Sullivan hated his job. The elegantly dressed woman seated in front of him had tears streaming down her face, and her once-flawless makeup was running in black streams down her cheeks. He slid the box of tissues closer to her, but she was too busy sobbing and clutching

Possessing a weapon has made me bashful. Tears appreciate in this economy of pleasure. The ether of data engulfs the capitol. Possessing a weapon has made me forgetful. My oboe tars her cenotaph. The surface is in process. Coruscant skinks emerge in force. The moon spits on a copse of spruce. Plausible opposites stir in the brush. Jupiter spins in its ruts. The wind extends its every courtesy. I have never been here. Understand? You have never seen me.