Quotes About Melancholy

I have experienced all kinds of foolish melancholy—I've been homesick for countries I've never seen, and longed to be what I couldn't be—but all these moods were trivial compared to my premonition of death.

You think you've moved on, there will always be the song which will bring back all the memories you thought you've forgotten.

There will always be that one song that reminds you of the memories you used to have with someone.

Today was just one of those days where everything I did reminded me of you, every song I heard some how related to you. I hate days like today because they remind me of the one thing I don't have.

When you are happy, you enjoy the music. But, when you are sad you understand the lyrics..

There are songs that can really make you sad and cry when you hear them. But it's actually not the song that makes you cry, its the people behind the memories...

Being sad is the only reminder I have left that I was ever happy.

It only takes one song to bring back all the memories and ruin your day.

I hate when you're already feeling crappy then a sad song comes on your iPod. Like really?

When I'm sad, I feel that every heartbroken song was written just for me.

Nothing thicker than a knife's blade separates happiness from melancholy.

Melancholy and sadness are the start of doubt...doubt is the beginning of despair; despair is the cruel beginning of the differing degrees of wickedness.

There is no worse sorrow than remembering happiness in the day of sorrow.

Melancholy is sadness that has taken on lightness

Man could not live if he were entirely impervious to sadness. Many sorrows can be endured only by being embraced, and the pleasure taken in them naturally has a somewhat melancholy character.

Sometimes I think Ill give up trying, and just go completely Russian and sit on a stove and moan all day.

Sometimes when I'm alone and listing to music, it brings back so many memories of you.

I don't really like the autumn. For me it is the beginning of winter and I hate the winter. White, the colour of death.

The gloomy shade of death.

The cold is lonely person's way of feeling alone and death

This place looks like the last scene in Hamlet.

London, with its monotonous and melancholy houses, seems like an inharmonious patchwork, as if pieced together without design. Yet it is lovable in its sprawling confusion.

Solace of Silencesurreal synapsesof a melancholy dronea dream per chanceshe dared not be alone...

Christmas is not a time for laughter. Christmas is a time for pain.