Quotes About Melancholy

I'm prone to a more depressed outlook on life.

My life is so boring that your brains are going to melt and come out of your eyes.

For the air of youth, Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reign A melancholy damp of cold and dry To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume The balm of life.

Life is a well of joy; but for those out of whom an upset stomach speaks, which is the father of melancholy, all wells are poisoned.

I think I was kind of melancholy as a kid. I spent a lot of time inside my own head, a lot of time sort of staring into space wondering the hell was going on.

Hence, all you vain delights,As short as are the nightsWherein you spend your folly!There's naught in this life sweetBut only melancholy;O sweetest melancholy!

and here's a secret for you - everything beautiful is sad...gilded with impermanence...

this longing inside me that never goes away, must be a poem...must be you ...

All a green willow, willow, willow,All a green willow is my garland.

Sadder than a ticking clock, the moments without you

O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!

The music, yearning like a God in pain.

Forlorn! the very word is like a bellTo toll me back from thee to my sole self!

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness painsMy sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,Or emptied some dull opiate to the drainsOne minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk.

from ODE to a NIGHTENGALE: Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain,

My life is a rather grim one. One day I shall perhaps describe it to you in great detail.

Not so long ago, to be sad meant you were filled to the brim with some intensity of experience.

Lido sniffled and wiped his nose. "That'd be

Coming in solemn beauty like slow old tunes of Spain.

Fiona Apple's album made me more immediately depressed than any other music I remembered hearing.

When deep August arrives, a certain melancholy sets in, the kind people get on a Sunday afternoon.

Flush's jealousy of the baby would amuse you. For a whole fortnight he fell into deep melancholy and was proof against all attentions lavished on him. Now he begins to be consoled a little and even condescends to patronise the cradle.

A huge, lonely melancholy welled up inside me as the sheer enormousness of what I was contemplating. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, exactly, so I let it inside.

Claude was tall and bony, a beautiful woman with blunt-cut hair that had been white as feathers since she was in her twenties, and some of the lightest eyes Lesa had ever seen-which perhaps explained the depth of the crow's feet decorating her face. They couldn't all be from smiling, though Lesa wasn't sure she'd ever seen Claude not smiling. She had an arsenal of smiles, including a melancholy one for funerals.