Quotes About Melancholy

THE SKY WAS SO gray it could smother a soul.

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

He's no longer listening to music, but his tears are loud enough to dance to.

The slide changed to a picture of Kattan walking down a narrow cobblestone street, head down

It was like a song, one of those sweet, wrenching songs that makes the hair on your arms stand up. That makes you want to throw yourself on the floor and just bawl. Or fall backward and surrender to the music utterly.

Mon existence est une campagne triste où il pleut toujours.

Now winds are wild, and sere leaves fall; A dying glory mantles all; I sit and watch the tears of rain Steal slowly down the window-pane. The wailing of the Autumn blast Stirs many a dead leaf of the Past Within my soul; I seem to hear The wan lips of the dying year, Mournfully, oh, mournfully, Chant a low, sad melody!

I'm afraid they're in love," he said, concerned. "They don't want to leave you." He lifted one hand from her waist to gently brush a pair from her neck, where their wings fanned against her jaw. Melancholy, he said, "I know just how they feel.

He'd felt this before and never wanted to feel it again. It could only diminish the memory of Madrigal; it already was. Again his memory failed to conjure her face. It was like trying to call up a melody while another song played

He had melted away, and she felt his absence like a space cut from the air.

Selalu ada yang membuat terlena dan tak berdaya pada hujan, pada rintik dan aromanya, pada bunyi dan melankolinya, pada caranya yang pelan sekaligus brutal dalam memetik kenangan yang tak diinginkan

Aneh, memang: selalu ada yang membuat terlena dan tak berdaya pada hujan, pada rintik dan aromanya, pada bunyi dan melankolinya, pada caranya yang pelan sekaligus brutal dalam memetik kenangan yang tak diinginkan.

We are earth's children, and life is the same in sap as in blood; all that the earth, our mother, feels and expresses to the eye by her form and aspect, in melancholy or in splendor, finds an echo within us.

The man must have a rare recipe for melancholy, who can be dull in Fleet Street.

Oh, God, the lovebirds," Magnus said, pulling the pillow off his face. "I hate happy couples.

By the mid-eighteenth century, another new attitude was emerging, one which encouraged reflection on death as a spiritual exercise and a valid form of artistic expression. The experts on Victorian death, James Stevens Curl and Chris Brooks, have described this tendency as, respectively, 'the cult of sepulchral melancholy' and 'graveyard gothic'.

Burton makes it quite clear that the 'distinguished' nature of melancholy makes it superior to other forms of madness, as evidence of a refined nature. It is melancholy, after all, which afflicts scholars and poets: 'Melancholy men of all others are most witty.'32 Despite the drawbacks of the condition, his ambivalent attitude prefigures that of many modern depressives, who regard the disease as an essential component of their character, even their creativity.

Melancholy in this sense is the character of Mortality.'34 'And he that knows not this, & is not armed to endure it, is not fit to live in this world.'35

The Anatomy of Melancholy was regarded by Sir William Osler, Regius Professor of Medicine at Oxford (1905–19), as the greatest medical treatise every written by a layman.

I am so glad and grateful, I am. But sometimes the orchestra plays something in swelling chords of luck and joy, and all I can hear is that one violin sawing out a thin melody of grief

It may be odd that I also felt a "shock of recognition" when I first saw Pryor. But watching Pryor reminded me of an emotional condition that is specific to Koreans: han, a combination of bitterness, wistfulness, shame, melancholy, and vengefulness, accumulated from years of brutal colonialism, war, and U.S.-supported dictatorships that have never been politically redressed. Han is so ongoing that it can even be passed down: to be Korean is to feel han.

Pryor reminded me of an emotional condition that is specific to Koreans: han, a combination of bitterness, wistfulness, shame, melancholy, and vengefulness, accumulated from years of brutal colonialism, war, and U.S.-supported dictatorships that have never been politically redressed. Han is so ongoing that it can even be passed down: to be Korean is to feel han.

Everything that is ended, everything that is last, naturally awakens in man a feeling of sorrow and melancholy. At the same time, it excites a pleasurable feeling, pleasurable in that very sorrow, and that is because of the infiniteness of the idea that is contained in the words ended, last, etc. ( Thus by their nature such words are, and always will be, poetic, however ordinary and common they are, in whatever language and style.)

My thoughts are drowned, and shipwreck seems sweet to me in this sea.