Quotes About Sad

My mother had not forgotten the sad end of M. Vinteuil's life, his complete absorption, first in having to play both mother and nursery-maid to his daughter, and, later, in the suffering which she had caused him;

The president we have today is a typical Washington politician that's prone to hyperbole and decisiveness and false outrage. And I think it's very sad - very sad to watch.

The old life is gone, my days are new, but time is still a mystery of wishes, and this sad, confusing fragrance. " —Rosa

Infatuation is one of those slightly comic illnesses which are at once so undignified and so painful that a nice-minded world does its best to ignore their existence altogether, referring to them only under provocation and then with apology, but, like its more material brother, this boil on the neck of the spirit can hardly be forgotten either by the sufferer or anyone else in his vicinity. The malady is ludicrous, sad, excruciating and, above all, instantly diagnosable.

Madame de Staël herself explained the mainspring of her character with the simple words: 'My passion is my genius'. Just before her death, almost as if writing her own epitaph, she said to Chateaubriand: 'I have always been the same; lively and sad. I have loved God, my father and liberty.

It is sad to see a woman sacrificing the ties of the affections even to do good.

It's sad - it's sad for us old enough to remember when directors ruled, and films were substantially better than they are today. But it's hard to argue with those kinds of grosses.

America has become so tense and nervous it has been years since I have seen anyone sleep in church - and that is a sad situation.

I'm a bitter, sad, sour young man who makes a career out of hastling people with real careers.

The silence isnt so bad, till I look at my hands and feel sad. Because the spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly.

Cities at night, I feel, contain men who cry in their sleep and then say Nothing. It's nothing. Just sad dreams. Or something like that ... Swing low in your weep ship, with your tear scans and your sob probes, and you would mark them. Women--and they can be wives, lovers, gaunt muses, fat nurses, obsessions, devourers, exes, nemeses--will wake and turn to these man and ask, with female need-to-know, "What is it?" And the men say, "Nothing. No it isn't anything really. Just sad dreams."

My heart is a red rose. When happy, it sparkles brillianly. When sad it bleeds and forms a dark puddle under it. When my heart dies, the soft fragile petals fall. So you might want to put your rose in a vase

This memory was both happy and sad: happy because it was so pleasant, and sad because it made Penelope think about how much she missed Swanburne--the girls, the teachers, Miss Mortimer. Or perhaps it was her own much younger self, that pint-sized person whom she could never be again, whom she missed. It was hard to say.

Poor Admiral. Soon you will be stuffed." Cassiopeia sounded rather cheerful at the prospect. "Don't be sad. I will visit you in Uncle Freddy's study.

Well, I did Marlene 15 years ago and that's in the style. It's somehow similar and not similar because Marlene was much more aggressive, funny and sad.

It all unfurled like a mink from a femme fatale's shoulders in an old film noir. All those tales of a taloned beauty with expensive tastes, her callow lover, the unwitting husband, a staged accident for a big insurance payout. They never ended well. Suddenly, Dara felt a coldness inside. It was all so tacky, so déclassé, a voice inside said. It was all so cheap. So unbearably sad.

Words were few and failing between them as though the silence that sat with them had laid its old lips on theirs and sucked them dry of speech. For where could one begin? With the weather? But here there was no weather. These few sad rooms were the old man's world. His horizons were all walls.

The Irish are a merry race and surely they are mad, for all their wars are merry and all their songs are sad." The

They are trying their best to indict a young generation, who seem to be setting a triumphant example to the older generation – an example of how to enjoy oneself, something which most Englishmen don't seem really capable of, especially the cynical pressmen of the News of the World. It's all very sad.

Stories have always been the things that entertain me and make me feel happy and sad and move me and give me the experience of being able to live many lives in one lifetime. It's the best thing about being alive.

I mean, I was just one of the ones who got exposed, and because of the position I was in, where I was in my life, it went mainstream. A lot of people got out of it after my situation, not because I went to prison but because it was sad for them to see me go through something that was so pointless, that could have been avoided.

Through all the years of my sad youth Huysmans remained a companion, a faithful friend; never once did I doubt him

What about Helena? It's okay, because she's in the medical profession. They have to do whatever is the best for health. That's right, the Hippocratic oath. She'll be sad, but she won't interfere with us because of the oath. Will you move your things up to my apartment?

Can't you just be like the rest of us, normal and sad and fucked up and alive and remorseful?