Quotes About Tears

Smiles form the channels of a future tear.

I hope no one who reads this book has been quite as miserable as Susan and Lucy were that night; but if you have been - if you've been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you - you will know that there comes in the end a sort of quietness. You feel as if nothing is ever going to happen again.

To my embarrassment, I was crying again. Real girl tears for the second time, these ones born out of frustration. That didn't happen to me very often, but I hated it when it did. It was faulty wiring in the female body, tear ducts attached directly to the frustration meter. Trying to explain to men that no, I wasn't being manipulative, I just couldn't stop my eyes from leaking salt water, only added to the aggravation.

a weeping, unhealable wound

A girl with tears and secrets in her eyes.

Despite the prayers and tears and earnest pleading, and pittiest protests for a hero's fall. Despite the hopeful signs, a heart's misleading. Death cometh after all.

I've never seen anyone cry like this. Quiet but gushing, a faucet behind his eyes mysteriously turned on.

I'm crying out of gratitude.

But I gotta say, I am so proud right now." Axel flattened his hand over his heart. "You borrowed my patented move, proving I'm made of more than awesome. I'm awesalicious. Is that a word? It's probably a girl word, but who cares! Seriously. Do you see a tear in my eye? Because I'm pretty sure I feel one.

Go ahead. Would you like a preview of what's gonna happen when you carry me outside the inn?" He tosses the empty bottle at the trash can, misses, then skips over to scoop up the teddy bear. He meets Sloan's gaze, his bottom lip turning down in a pout. Tears well in his eyes. "I tried to s-stop her, officer, but she t-touched my private p-place.

you must carry the cross with Christ in this life. Soon enough there will come a time when you will no longer suffer. You will reign with God and He will wipe away your tears with His own hand. In His presence, pain and sighing will forever flee away.

then I took out a notepad and wrote my first poem. Across three thousand miles of sea and through strange England's smiling, and into a wee Scots Highland town there is a lad who's crying. Oh fool the world, he could, he could, a man at twenty years . . . but all alone in that Highland town there is a boy in tears.

Across three thousand miles of sea and through strange England's smiling, and into a wee Scots Highland town there is a lad who's crying. Oh fool the world, he could, he could, a man at twenty years . . . but all alone in that Highland town there is a boy in tears.

There are so many lessons that need to be experienced before we can walk through that portal to a world where no tears live.

It's all right, little woman, take my word for it. If I were you, I'd cry. You'll see things differently through your tears.

And those who saw, it did surprise, Such drops could fall from human eyes.

Adieu, he said, this is goodbye. I'll never forget you, never. She stood silent. He looked at her and saw her eyes full of tears. He turned away. She forced herself to smile. Like the Chinese mother who sent her son off to war telling him to be careful 'because war has its dangers,' I'm asking you, if you have any feelings for me, to be as careful as possible with your life. Because it is precious to you? he asked nervously. Yes. Because it is precious to me.

Longtemps, Francine demeura immobile ; sa colère même était tombée ; de grosses larmes gonflaient ses paupières et coulaient, lourdes et rondes, le long de ses joues. Mais elle ne songeait pas à les essuyer. Elle oubliait, pour la première fois de sa vie peut-être, que le chagrin vieillit et abîme la figure.

But now her tears dried because so many terrible emotions and speculations demanded her attention.

True politics is simply the drying of tears and the endless fight for freedom. Without freedom there is no art and no truth. I revere great artists and the men who say no to tyrants.

Of course she had read this work many times before, but there were certain parts to which she passionately returned: so cool, so elegant, so beautiful, so terrible. As she read tears began to stream down her face.

There are indeed many places where I could start. I might start with Rachel's tears, or Priscilla's. There is much shedding of tears in this story. In a complex explanation any order may seem arbitrary. Where after all does anything begin? That three of the four starting points I have mentioned were causally independent of each other suggests speculations, doubtless of the most irrational kind, upon the mystery of human fate.

Where do they come from, these tears?

On that long journey she wept all the tears stored in her soul, leaving none in reserve for later sorrows.