Quotes About Weeping

Moon! Maddened celestial heart -why are you rowing like this, inside the cup full of blue wine, toward the west, such a defeated and aching stern? Moon! And by flying off in vain, you holocaust into scattered opals: perhaps you are my gypsy heart wandering the blue weeping verses! from "Agile Soffits

For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for a lifetime; weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning.

Yet only abominations stalk, shamble, hulk, and scrabble through the Winter courtyard, most missing limbs, some split wide open like overripe, weeping plums, others turned inside out, wearing entrails for skin, blind eyes, deaf ears, and silenced mouths cocooned within, lying in raw, oozing heaps on the ground.

Full with frets I die, but not slain by you. My chest drains itself, painlessly. Is all this not blood? Oh, Lord—it's dew! The dawn, weeping, washes over me.

No more weeping and wailing. No more weeping and wailing. I'm going home to meet my Soul.

Enoch's party left their boats at the river's end. They had all forgotten the miracle of the changed river course within hours of steering upstream. After a few days, they had begun wondering if their memories had failed them and the river had always flowed north. But as soon as they ran their boats aground, the current suddenly turned back south. Enoch fell to the ground weeping in repentance.

The rose Dawn might have found them weeping still had not grey-eyed Athena slowed the night when night was most profound, and held the Dawn under the Ocean of the East. That glossy team, Firebright and Daybright, the Dawn's horses that draw her heavenward for men- Athena stayed their harnessing.

Telemachus hurled his arms round his father, and he wept. They both felt deep desire for lamentation, and wailed with cries as shrill as birds, like eagles or vultures, when the hunters have deprived them of fledglings who have not yet learned to fly. That was how bitterly they wept.

Oh, mother! since thy son To early death by destiny is doom'd, I might have hop'd the Thunderer on high, Olympian Jove, with honour would have crown'd My little space; but now disgrace is mine; Since Agamemnon, the wide-ruling King, Hath wrested from me, and still holds, my prize. Weeping, he spoke; his Goddess-mother heard, Beside her aged father where she sat In the deep ocean-caves: ascending quick Through the dark waves, like to a misty cloud, Beside her son she stood; and as he wept, She

You are indeed a man of sorrows and have suffered much...pray be seated now, here on this chair, and let us leave our sorrows, bitter though they are, locked up in our own hearts, for weeping is cold comfort and does little good.

and for all our grief we will hide our sorrows in our hearts, for weeping will not avail us. The immortals know no care, yet the lot they spin for man is full of sorrow.

God is patient with us to become the God's children he wants us to be but you really can see him weeping.

He is brave, this one, and not given to complaint no matter the hardship. But he weeps for dying horses.

And to weep was to be inside oneself, entirely, an inner place far more unrelenting and unforgiving than anything that could be found outside.

everything – now sank beneath a familiar cloud, settling grey and thick, where every shape was but hinted at, where he was lost. As lost as he had been, as lost as any and every mortal soul, no matter how blustery its claims to certainty, to faith. And yet…and yet it was a warm cloud, shot through with precious things: his love for his wife, his children; his wonder at their lives, the changes that came to them day by day. He found he was weeping, even as he climbed to his feet.

she died of internal weeping

How it happened that Mastro Cherry, carpenter, found a piece of wood that wept and laughed like a child. Centuries ago there lived -- A king! my little readers will say immediately. No, children, you are mistaken. Once upon a time there was a piece of wood.

Jude leaped out of arm's reach, and walked along the trackway weeping--not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was good for God's birds was bad for God's gardener; but with the awful sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for life.

The floating pollen seemed to be his notes made visible, and the dampness of the garden the weeping of the garden's sensibility.

Under ancient cypress trees, weeping dreams are harvested from sleep.

But as I descended the rocky path madness seized me and I cried aloud in the night; and as I bent over the silent waters with silver fingers, I saw that my countenance had deserted me. And the white voice spoke to me: Kill yourself! Sighing there arose in me a young boy's shadow and gazed at me radiantly from crystalline eyes, that I sank down weeping beneath the trees, the mighty canopy of stars.

Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers?

The truth is, laughter always sounds more perfect than weeping. Laughter flows in a violent riff and is effortlessly melodic. Weeping is often fought, choked, half strangled, or surrendered to with humiliation.

But why is she weeping? She, the perfect beauty, Who could put at her feet the conquered human race, What secret malady gnaws at those sturdy flanks? —She is weeping, fool, because she has lived! And because she lives! But what she deplores Most, what makes her shudder down to her knees, Is that tomorrow, alas! she will still have to live! Tomorrow, after tomorrow, always!—like us!