Quotes About Tragedy

life is a tragedy up close, but a comedy in long-shot.

Esta rapariga era uma criadita que costumava servir-nos na pensão barata onde eu vivia. Lembrava-me que saiu em desgraça, tragicamente, mas consegui detectar uma certa glória selvagem nela. Estava a continuar com a sua vida contra tido e todos. A sua luta é a batalha suprema do nosso tempo. Que ela e todos os outros como ela possam encontrar um destino gentil.

Perseu, È›inând în mân? capul Meduzei È™i având la picioare trupul ei contorsionat, este îns??i imaginea tristeÈ›ii È™i m-a f?cut s? m? gândesc la acel vers mistic al lui Oscar Wilde:"C?ci orice om ucide ceea ce iubeÈ™te". În lupta tainei externe dintre bine È™i r?u, cauza lui era pierdut?.

Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long-shot.

Of all the things she thought might happen when she came here, this wasn't one. To be shot like this. Tears came into her eyes. She closed them, laid her head down on the grass and in a few moments her tears were the only part of her moving

Are you by yourself, darling? I can't bear the thought of you dying alone. No, mum, I'm with my friend. I'm with Courtney... Courtney... He called out her name. 'Courtney,' he said. 'I'm sorry...' But Courtney was already dead.

And then it was like he had been punched hard in the chest. He wasn't running anymore. He looked down. there was a silver bolt sticking out of him.no, that couldn't be. He couldn't have shot himself. He tried to augh, but it hurt to much. What was gong on? He had fallen. He was sitting down, his legs out in front of him. dead grown-ups lay all around him. Nothing moved. he couldn't breathe. His lungs were full of liquid. He looked up. The sky was flickering.

She makes a stone-face, drops her voice an octave. -No. No. No. My name is Joe Pitt and I don't do nuthin' I don't want to do and I won't even listen because I don't know a good thing when I have it and I'd rather be all fucked up and tragic and go hurt people.

Children are dying in this city because they're too fucking poor to keep warm. Put that in your fucking notebook. I put it in my fucking notebook.

Even the most blatant assholes seemed to function in a state of grace when confronted with the brutal loss of a loved one. They moved through the world differently than other people. When they looked at you, you had the feeling that they were really seeing you. Their entire universe was just this one thing, this one event, this one loss. They seemed, for a few weeks, to have things in perspective. Then the inconsequential shit of their lives would start to seep back in.

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

But of course, Libby didn't grow up. She died in Salmon Bay instead. Supposedly.

But women her age, barely out of their teens and with the whole world before them, they haven't yet had time to lose the things they love. Every affair is a fairy tale or a tragedy, and either one is fine so long as the story is good. Every love is all or nothing, and even their "nothings" are poetry. They don't yet know how the years fade and stretch the highs and the lows, wearing them thin, making them vulnerable. They haven't yet known much of death.

consumption of brandy, he was trampled to death when he attempted to

How, exactly, did I kill him? He died on the golf course." One minute he'd been practicing his swing, and in the next—phzzt—a freak lightning bolt had hit him right in the nine iron. His shoes were still smoking when she reached him.

It's wrong that this is required of you. It's wrong that your son died. It will always be wrong.

It was wrong. It was so relentlessly awful that my mother had been taken from me.

suffering is what happens when truly horrible things happen to us.

You are not grieving your son's death because his death was ugly and unfair. You're grieving it because you loved him truly. The beauty in that is greater than the bitterness of his death.

Jak ?íkám, romantická láska existovala i d?ív než v 12. století, ale neidealizovala se a p?íb?h Parida a Heleny je skv?lý p?íklad. Láska jim p?inesla jen prchavé št?stí, ale celkov? to byla katastrofa.

Marie Snyder's dead, and here you are laughin' about it." "We're all gonna be dead sooner or later," Eddie said. "Maybe it ain't funny, but it ain't no great tragedy neither.

To be sure, every football play is in a sense a short narrative. First come the signals of the quarterback. That is the preliminary exposition. Then the plot thickens, action becomes intense and a climax is reached whereby the mood of tragedy or comedy is established.

How often we fail to realize our good fortune in living in a country where happiness is more than a lack of tragedy.

A maple that has yielded up its life Season on sugar-season—oh, what can be More tragic in its beauty than a maple: Swollen and scarred of trunk, and varicose From gashes in the bark, from too many wounds Of too many spiles that let out too much sap, From too much giving, giving for ninety years, For ninety Moons-of-Maple-Sugar-Making, For ninety Moons-of-Gathering-of-Wild-Rice, For ninety Moons-of-the-Falling-of-the-Leaves, For ninety Moons-of-the-Coming-of-the-Snow.