Quotes About Tears

A fresh eddy of sadness washed over Natalie, and she shuddered with emotional pain. When would the tears stop? When would the pain subside? It wasn't like a headache or illness that could be cured by swallowing a pill. No, this ache of missing and regret felt like a constant, incurable condition.

That's how it is with infants. The minute the pain's gone, so are the tears. If more people would do that, the world would be a happier place.

I've always thought a quilt held together with a woman's tears to be the strongest of all.

Why did joy bring the same tears as sadness? Why did the throat and chest ache with fire, regardless? Was it because, deep down, everyone knew it was fragile and ephemeral? Did the tears come from the knowledge that everything could turn in the blink of an eye?

The pigment must be mixed with the tears of spinsters of good family, who must live long lives of impeccable virtue and die without ever having had a day of true happiness.

God gives us tears so other know when we need help." from the book Gods in Alabama

The child of divorce and the parent without primary custody know these interstitial places well: the curb, the corridor, the terminal parking lot. It is there where you embrace, you shed tears, you thank God for reuniting you -- or curse God for tearing you asunder once more. All the while, the elevator dings, the custodian sweeps up, the traffic cop urges you to get a move on.

Don't you find," he said, "judging from his picture, that his eyes are full of tears and that his lips are sad with a secret sorrow?

How many tears could one body hold? How many could she spill before she drowned in them?

A life worth living is one of compassion. And a life of compassion will include many tears.

I saw the camel put on its shirt An leave without tears for Mecca With a thousand and one Sand sellers and Dark crowds like scaly dragons But i could not follow them For sloth won out Against my ardour And daily habit resumed Its disjointed toe-dance

The Ache of Autumn in Us There is a season for everything, a time for giving birth, a time for dying; a time for tears, a time for laughter; a time for mourning, a time for dancing. . . . —Ecclesiastes 3:1,2,4 The trees grow more restless; October wind weaves through them; they shake their arms in dismay as if to fight the coming cold and the grief of leaves going. Autumn air does a heart-dance on branches already gone barren; the misty air clings to golden leaves

Convierten al mundo en hospital, quieren que no esperemos nada, ni siquiera lo que no va a llegar y por la curva del cielo pasa tu rostro que llora.

I couldn't cry. You have to have your arms open and your mouth open and your heart. My heart was a fist.

I try to bring the audience's own drama - tears and laughter they know about - to them.

contrario. Amelia comenzó a llorar.

Of course none of those men was suitable. Half were after your fortune, and as for the other half—well, you would have reduced them to tears within a month." "Such tenderness for your youngest child," Hyacinth muttered. "It quite undoes me.

I love crying. I pick movies to go see with the intention of crying.

Across from me, Taylor was openly crying now. Her sobs were muffled by the silver gag but I could see the scarlet tears running down her cheeks. Her eyes were fixed on the fresh burn on my cheek and I knew she shared my pain. A fresh surge of love and protectiveness washed over me.

Sunrise swept out to sea, a sea of her own tears. "Hey," Jacaranda said, acting as though it were "only a movie," a sound in her voice of carefree girlish abandon

I cried tears you'll never see. So fuck you, you can go cry me a ocean and leave me be

Voglio dormire un momento, un momento, un minuto, un secolo; ma tutti sappiano che non sono morto; che c'è una stella d'oro sulle mie labbra; che sono il piccolo amico del vento occidentale; che sono l'ombra immensa delle mie lacrime.

I alone with my undiscovered love, without heart, without tears, towards the skies' impossible roof with a huge sun to console me.

My voice is stained with bloody light, and I see irises dry up at its touch; in my song I wear the finery of a white-faced clown. Love, sweet Love, hides under a spider. The sun, another spider, hides me under legs of gold. I will not find my fortune, for I am like Love himself, whose arrows are tears, and whose quiver is the heart...