Quotes About Melancholy

This is the very worst hour of the day. Vitality. Dull, gloomy : hate this hour. Feel as if I had been eaten and spewed.

He wanted to cry quietly but not for himself: for the words, so beautiful and sad, like music." ? James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

The sky was purple, streaked with fire, the palm trees like scorched tin cutouts against the sun. I woke at four in the morning and could not sleep again, my heart congealed with a sense of mortality that I could not explain.

The band played "La Jolie Blon" a second time. For me, there is no more haunting ballad in the world. Its origins go back to the eighteenth century, but the rendition by Harry Choates is the one that never leaves you.

Nothing. My heart sank down into my stomach.

music being played by a far-off orchestra.

'Tu ki jaane' is a melancholic song about a love unfulfilled, about a road block in a once happy relationship also embodies the evolution of a woman of today.

He felt the loyalty we feel to unhappiness - the sense that is where we really belong.

Everybody has unhappiness.

A lot of the time, I was unhappy as a kid, so I spent it, I guess, in a gray place.

Often, the roles I'm offered in England are melancholic women who are filled with regret for the past, regret for their fading beauty.

She was a tragic beauty. Sadness had left its fingerprints all over her face.

Indolence, of course, is an absolutely crucial part of the creative process: you do not find poets sitting in rows in cavernous word factories, staring at screens. They are rather to be found lolling on the sofa or strolling through the groves, nursing their melancholic temperaments and losing themselves in extended reveries.

My Pandora station is Boyz II Men.

There is a melancholy that stems from greatness.

Here rests his head upon the lap of EarthA youth to fortune and to fame unknown.Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.

Grim-visag'd comfortless Despair.

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'rThe moping owl does to the moon complain.

Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth to fortune and to fame unknown. Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, And Melancholy marked him for her own.

I'm saddest when I sing.

No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,No comfortable feel in any member—No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds—November!

There's not a string attuned to mirthBut has its chord in melancholy.

Canst paint a doleful cry?

The sinister, the terrible never deceive: the state in which they leave us is always one of enlightenment. And only this condition of vicious insight allows us a full grasp of the world, all things considered, just as a frigid melancholy grants us full possession of ourselves. We may hide from horror only in the heart of horror. ("The Medusa")