Quotes About Tragedy

The murder of Sean Brown hurt my soul.

I think the Greeks were the only people ever to nail character. Their heroes are deeply flawed.

In 1990 I had a nasty car accident and in 1994 my husband Ron Edgeworth died of motor neurone disease.

I had seen people who had lost everything and everyone they loved to war, famine, and natural disasters.

This book is dedicated to Thomas Coleman, a retired longshoreman, who died in his attic at 2214 St. Roch Avenue in New Orleans' 8th Ward on or about August 29, 2005. He had a can of juice and a bedspread at his side when the waters rose. There were more than a thousand like him.

Over a million people. So fast. Gone, just like that.

The Death Star had destroyed an entire planet. Yes, it had been a rebel hotbed, a positive nest of treason. But surely not everyone who had died had hated the Empire. The destruction of the Death Star hit closer to home, as she had lost people she knew, but at least there had been no civilians on it. No children.

bloodied, broken corpse

For as long as I could remember, I had always been the girl who had watched her father kill her mother.

By the time it was over, we knew the dead were the lucky ones.

Two people died for every one who made it to the auction block, he said.

And this is true of all terrible crimes; it's the victims who must be respected and honoured, not the murderers

Agatha Christie's tales were aggressively anti-intellectual and crueller for it; hers was a world where confirmed bachelors committed suicide out of shame.

Thanks to Hitler, we are no longer living in a world that cares about the death of someone because they were loved in the past. It cares only if that death can do damage to the future. It's a grim truth, Sidney. Like Orpheus leaving Hades, we are rushing headlong into the light of a terrible new world.

Francesco de Pazzi thereupon stabbed him with such frenzy, plunging the blade time and again into the unresisting body, that he even drove the point of the dagger through his own tigh. Giuliano fell to his knees while two assailants continued to rain savage blows upon him, slashing and stabbing until the corpse was rent by nineteen wounds. The House of Medici: Its Rise and Fall

This surrender, by a man of the Enlightenment and a man of truly revolutionary and democratic temperament, is another reminder that history is a tragedy and not a morality tale

History is more of a tragedy than it is a morality tale.

Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.— Her lips suck forth my soul; see where it flies...

Accursed be he that first invented war.

From jygging vaines of riming mother wits, And such conceits as clownage keepes in pay, Weele leade you to the stately tent of War: Where you shall heare the Scythian Tamburlaine, Threatning the world with high astounding tearms And scourging kingdoms with his conquering sword. View but his picture in this tragicke glasse, And then applaud his fortunes if you please.

TAMBURLAINE: Live still, my love, and so conserve my life, Or, dying, be the author of my death.

On receiving his M.A. from the University of Cambridge in 1587, Christopher Marlowe (1564-1593) had already written parts I and II of his play Tamburlane the Great. Bringing fame to its author, and a new style to tragic theater, Tamburlane was the beginning of a brilliant, unfortunately brief, career. Marlowe's plays were to prove original in their earnest portrayal of single personalities who were deeply flawed, often criminal, but still somehow heroic.

Break heart, drop blood, and mingle it with tears.

We've been rehearsing a classic from antiquity, Green Eggs and Hamlet , the story of a young prince of Denmark who goes mad, drowns his girlfriend, and in his remorse, forces spoiled breakfast on all whom he meets.