Quotes About Melancholy

When people hear good music, it makes them homesick for something they never had, and never will have.

He seemed a part of the mute melancholy landscape, an incarnation of its frozen woe, with all that was warm and sentient in him fast bound below the surface.

I'm sorry," Billy says, "but I felt it was too organized. I like ellipses and teeny jottings and spontaneous poems and particularly all those devices like long lists of melancholy things.

The best of jazz for all its virtues cannot escape the limitations of its origin: it is indoor music, city music, distilled from the melancholy nightclubs and the marijuana...

Hope is grief's best music.

Down in the valley, the valley so low,Hang your head over, hear the wind blow.

Philosophy is a study that lets us be unhappy more intelligently.

Au clair de la lune,Mon ami Pierrot,Prête-moi ta plumePour écrire un mot.

o afinador chegava na camioneta da carreira para consertar a harpa da dona Irene e horas num só acorde a aparafusar com o alicatezito melancolias erradas até que a vida no timbre que lhe pertencia e o tio emocionado - É exactamente o que eu sinto

I've been getting into Nick Drake lately, the folk singer. Sad, gorgeous stuff.

John Martin was a great, complex folk singer, and later on, his music became more and more melancholic as he went through a separation with his wife.

I hold Mad Season very fondly to my heart, and there's a lot of sadness in that, too.

Sentimentality is a form of fatigue.

A silly lilting wavering tune came from before her in the dusk - a tune in which major notes with their cheerful insistence wavered and melted into minor sounds, as, beneath a bridge, the high lights on dark waters melt and waver and disappear into black depths.

This is the saddest story I have ever heard.

You must reach inside yourselves where I live like a story, not old, not young laughing at my own sorrow, weeping pearls at weddings, wielding a torch to melt sand into something clear and bright.

The blue of fear, the blue of sorrow.

Ou sont les neiges d'antan?

You're just tired, Father." "I am tired," the Duke agreed. "I'm morally tired. The melancholy degeneration of the Great Houses has afflicted me at last, perhaps. And we were such strong people once.

Gregor's glance then turned to the window. The dreary weather—the rain drops were falling audibly down on the metal window ledge—made him quite melancholy.

I can't feel a thing; All mournful petal storms are dancing inside the very private spring of my head.

There sat I, a faded being, under faded leaves.

He looked sadly down at the street, as though it were his own bottomless sadness.

Leo en Dostoievski el pasaje que tanto se asemeja a ser desdichado