Quotes About Tragedy

A terrible event had broken him down. He had fallen madly in love with a young girl and married her in a kind of dreamlike ecstasy. After a year of unalloyed bliss and unexhausted passion, she had died suddenly of heart disease, no doubt killed by love itself.

It reveals none of those great catastrophes which we always expect to find behind these acts of despair; but it shows us the slow succession of the little vexations of life, the disintegration of a lonely existence, whose dreams have disappeared; it gives the reason for these tragic ends, which only nervous and highstrung people can understand.

War always reaches the depths of horror because of idiots who perpetuate terror from generation to generation under the pretext of vengeance.

We made a small place where people could go and let go of their pain, where they could pray for the miners, and start to forget that they might be dead," Carmen says.

The basic fact about human existence is not that it is a tragedy, but that it is a bore. It is not so much a war as an endless standing in line. The objection to it is not that it is predominantly painful, but that it is lacking in sense.

If we knew what we are, we should do as Sir Arthur Jermyn did; and Arthur Jermyn soaked himself in oil and set first to his clothing one night.

And, most vivid of all, there was the dramatic epic of the rats - the scampering army of obscene vermin which had burst forth from the castle three months after the tragedy that doomed it to desertion - the lean, filthy, ravenous army which had swept all before it and devoured fowl, cats, dogs, hogs, sheep, and even two hapless human beings before its fury was spent.

Scrivo in uno stato di tensione insostenibile. Fra poco sarà l'alba e, allora, io non esisterò più. Privo d'ogni mezzo, privo della droga che — sola — mi ha consentito fino ad oggi di sopravvivere ai miei incubi, non mi rimane altro modo per sottrarmi al tormento: mi getterò dall'alta finestra di questa soffitta, nella squallida strada sottostante.

For Arthur Munroe was dead. And on what remained of his chewed and gouged head there was no longer a face.

My youngest boy went mad. He sits drooling on the porch, trying to play the cat like an accordion. He's been scratched some.

It had happened in the 'eighties, and a family had disappeared or was killed.

Al fin puede admitir voluntariamente que los deseos, esperanza y valores de la humanidad son asuntos del todo irrelevantes frente a a la ciega maquinaria cósmica. Considera la felicidad como un fantasma ético cuyo simulacro no alcanza a nadie de forma completa e incluso de refilón a muy pocos y cuya posición como objetivo de todos los esfuerzos humanos es una mezcla grotesca de farsa y tragedia.

Gold, or at least the prospect of it, saved him, then killed him.

In the immediate aftermath of the great Chicago fire, a business proprietor erected a shack in front of his burned-out business. On a sign, he placed his name and the tagline that everything was gone but wife, children, and energy.

One of the great tragedies of modern education is that most people are not taught to think critically. The majority of the world's people, those of the West included, are taught to believe rather than to think. It's much easier to believe than to think. People seldom think seriously about that which we are taught to believe, because we are all creatures of imitation and habit.

Then she spoke with Yolanda, her eldest child, with whom she'd been shopping all afternoon for an Easter dress. Mommy, I'm not going to cry, Yoki said resolutely. I'll see him again in heaven. But something was bothering her, something clearly nagged at her young conscience. Should I hate the man who killed my father? she asked. Coretta shook her head. No, darling, your daddy wouldn't want you to do that.

More than 150 Cheyenne, mostly women and children, were murdered in cold blood that day, in a massacre that is now widely regarded as the worst atrocity committed in all the Indian wars.

For Mum, life was fundamentally hell. You went blind, you got raped, people forgot your birthday, Nixon got elected, your husband fled with a blonde from Beckenham, and then you got old, you couldn't walk and you died.

there is no class that cannot be wiped out if a sufficient number of its members are murdered.

At first she was overjoyed that he would be with her, but then she recalled that human people could not live under the water, and he could only visit her father's palace as a dead man.

His wedding morning would bring death to her, and she would change into the foam of the sea.

In the dawn of morning there lay the poor little one, with pale cheeks and smiling mouth, leaning against the wall; she had been frozen to death on the last evening of the year . . . No one imagined what beautiful things she had seen, nor into what glory she had entered with her grandmother, on New-year's day.

Here is the truth about tragedy: it's good for the soul.

There should have been a dark whisper in the wind. Or maybe a deep chill in the bone. Something. An ethereal song only Elizabeth or I could hear. A tightness in the air. Some textbook premonition. There are misfortunes we almost expect in life—what happened to my parents, for example—and then there are other dark moments, moments of sudden violence that alter everything. There was my life before the tragedy. There is my life now. The two have very little in common.