Quotes About Woe

And when, on the still cold nights, he pointed his nose at a star and howled long and wolflike, it was his ancestors, dead and dust, pointing nose at star and howling down through the centuries and through him. And his cadences were their cadences, the cadences which voiced their woe and what to them was the meaning of the stillness, and the cold, and dark.

The righteous man does not need your sympathy, but the unrighteous; he who, by his wrong-doing, is laying up for himself long periods of suffering and woe is in need of it.

Man was made for joy and woe, and when this we rightly know through the world we safely go. Joy and woe are woven fine, a clothing for the soul to bind.

Oh, Conscience! Conscience! man's most faithful friend, Him canst thou comfort, ease, relieve, defend; But if he will thy friendly checks forego, Thou art, oh! woe for me, his deadliest foe!

Here is woe, a self and not the mask of woe.

Out of damp and gloomy days, out of solitude, out of loveless words directed at us, conclusions grow up in us like fungus one morning they are there, we know not how, and they gaze upon us, morose and gray. Woe to the thinker who is not the gardener but only the soil of the plants that grow in him.

Sung to the tune of O Christmas Tree O woe is me, O woe is me, I used to have a hamster tree, But it was eaten by a newt, And now I have no cuddly fruit, O woe is me, O woe is me, I used to have a hamster tree!

When Jesus came to earth of old, He came in weakness and in woe; He wore no form of angel mould, But took our nature poor and low. But when he cometh back once more, Then shall be set the great white Throne; And earth and heaven shall flee before The face of Him that sits thereon.

October's child is born for woe, And life's vicissitudes must know, But lay an Opal on her breast, And hope will lull those woes to rest.

Here he had read to me his tear-stained page Of sorrow... here would try To lay his burden in the hands of Song, And make the Poet bear the Lover's wrong, But still his heart impatiently would cry: "In vain, in vain! You cannot teach to flow In measured lines so measureless a woe. First learn to slay this wild beast of despair, Then from his harmless jaws your honey tear!"

Ah, furchte fruchte, timid Danaides! Ena milo melomon, frai is frau and swee is too, swee is two when swoo is free, ana mala woe is we! A pair of sycopanties with amygdaleine eyes, one old obster lumpky pumpkin and three meddlars on their slies.

It feels as honest as the day is crummy that I begin this tale of total desperation and woe with me, my pukey sister, Georgia, and Leonardo the Silent sitting like rotting sardines in the back of a Hills Village Police Department cruiser.

Fame had brought me so much unhappiness.

A woman's counsel brought us first to woe, And made her man his paradise forego, Where at heart's ease he liv'd; and might have been As free from sorrow as he was from sin.

With what a deep devotedness of woe I wept thy absence - o'er and o'er again Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, And memory, like a drop that, night and day, Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away!

And all the woe that moved him so That he gave that bitter cry the wild regrets, and the bloody sweats None knew so well as I: For he who lives more lives than one More deaths than one must die.

Misery misery son of a bitch of all miseries.

Who can take the measure of a child? The Genie of the Arabian tale is nothing to him. He, too, may be let out of his bottle and fill the world. But woe to us if we keep him corked up.

O, keen and bitter words of woe, Goodbye—Farewell—Adieu Which could I choose to send a throe, In thy kind heart so true?

I wonder what I'll ever have control of. Rejection breeds obsession, so they say. I left my heart and all my hope, my vindicated tales of woe in Sweden on a freezing winter day.

In this book, not only is there no happy ending, there is no happy beginning and very few happy things in the middle.

One might say they are magnets for misfortune.

Mine is a misery which nothing can do away.

Shoulder to shoulder they stood in a circle of woe, and woe was all their assailants found to greet them.