Quotes About Weep

You are filled with anguish For the suffering of others. And no one's grief Has ever passed you by. You are relentless Only to yourself, Forever cold and pitiless. But if only you could look upon Your own sadness from a distance, Just once with a loving soul— Oh, how you would pity yourself. How sadly you would weep. —Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna Romanova, poem dedicated to her mother, April 23, 1917

now let humour give Seas to mine eyes, that I may quickly weep The shipwreck of the world

How strange that behind a smiling chattering mask one may rehearse in the utmost detail pictures and conversations which constitute torture, that behind that mask one may weep, one may howl.

That was the beginning of the revolution. Many years have gone by and blood keeps running, soaking the soil of Haiti, but I am not there to weep.

To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under heaven.... A time to weep, and a time to laugh, A time to mourn, and a time to dance.

Mother, whose heart hung humble as a button the bright splendid shroud of your son, Do not weep. War is kind.

We must love men more than things, and I admire and weep more for the soldiers than for the churches which were only the recording of an heroic gesture which today is reenacted at every moment.

For perhaps we are like stones; our own history and the history of the world embedded in us, we hold a sorrow deep within and cannot weep until that history is sung.

Swan-white of heart; I smile not ever neither do I weep. I am as lovely as a dream in stone.

all theories like cliches shot to hell, all these small faces looking up beautiful and believing; I wish to weep but sorrow is stupid. I wish to believe but believe is a graveyard. we have narrowed it down to the butcherknife and the mockingbird wish us luck.

Cats never weep, she told herself, no more than wolves. It's just a stupid dream.

Weep no more, lady, weep no more, Thy sorrow is in vain, For violets plucked, the sweetest showers Will ne'er make grow again.

beautiful soul weeps deep~

War wreaked on you his hideous ravishment; We, we alone, Nereids inviolate, Remain to weep, with the sea-birds to chant: Corinth is lost, Corinth is desolate.

And when the moment came, even then Genji would be fortunate. He would die without fear, drenched in his own heart's blood, in the embrace of a beautiful woman, and she would weep for him. What samurai could hope for more?

About your easy heads my prayers I said with syllables of clay. What gift, I asked, shall I bring now Before I weep and walk away? Take, they replied, the oak and laurel. Take our fortune of tears and live Like a spendthrift lover. All we ask Is the one gift you cannot give.

YOUNGER MORTIMER: Base Fortune, now I see, that in thy wheel There is a point, to which when men aspire, They tumble headlong down: that point I touch'd, And, seeing there was no place to mount up higher, Why shall I grieve at my declining fall? Farewell, fair queen. Weep not for Mortimer, That scorns the world, and, as a traveller, Goes to discover countries yet unknown.

Forbid me not to weep; he was my father; And, had you lov'd him half so well as I, You could not bear his death thus patiently.

The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles. No matter what you say about it, there is always that which you can't.

The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles.

what we need is not more emotion, but more thought. It is very hard to think; this is a new power that our race has acquired only a short time ago. We find it easy to weep or to rage, to shout for joy or scold in anger; but to think

Alas! What does death do with our soul? What nature does it give it? What does it take, and what does it leave with it? Where does it put it? Will it sometimes lend it eyes of flesh with which to look down upon the earth and weep?

This is Weep. You can't expect things to make sense here." Thyon didn't agree. "I expect they make perfect sense," he said. "Just under a different set of rules." It was a matter of learning the rules, like learning a new language.

Weep slept. Dreamers dreamed. A grand moon drifted, and, and the wings of the citadel cut the sky in two: light above, dark below.