Quotes About Tragedy

every morning i pray that the school bus will crash and we'll all die in a fiery wreck. then my mom will be able to sue the school bus company for never making school buses with seat belts, and she'll be able to get more money for my tragic death than i would've ever made in my tragic life. unless the lawyers from the school bus company can prove to the jury that i was guaranteed to be a fuckup. then they'd get away with buying my mom a used ford fiesta and call it even.

What a powerful word, future. Of all the abstractions we can articulate to ourselves, of all the concepts we have that other animals do not, how extraordinary the ability to consider a time that's never been experienced. And how tragic not to consider it. It galls us, we with such a limited future, to see someone brush it aside as meaningless, when it has an endless capacity for meaning, and an endless number of meanings that can be found within it.

I think that if you were somehow able to measure the weight of human kindness, it would have weighed more on 9/11 than it ever had.

I still find it hard to see Ground Zero. I still find it hard to witness the nothingness. The lights are not a remedy for this. There will never be a remedy for this. But they are a strikingly apt presence. They are both something and nothing at once. They fill the space without claiming it as their own. They are translucent. They blur.

One of the towers has fallen. When it's our turn to leave, it's like something in me is finally willing to listen, and suddenly I understand what it means. The tower doesn't exist anymore. Something I've seen my entire life - something so much larger than my entire life - is gone. That is my first reaction. And then I think about all the people inside. There must have been people inside.

Tennessee Williams choked to death on the plastic cap of a nasal spray.

Oedipus gouges out his eyes, Jocasta hangs herself, both guiltless; the play has come to a harmonious conclusion. Wrote Schiller.

shortly after reaching their greatest demographic heights, in 1939, their numbers were tragically reduced by the genocidal Nazi assault from approximately 17 million to 11 million. Today's world Jewish population overwhelmingly

When it happens to you it's a national tragedy— Why aren't the papers reporting this? you wonder. Only when it happens to someone else do you realize what a dull story it really is.

September 12, 2001 Paris Last night on TV I watched people jump from the windows of the World Trade Center.

Ebola, not the thousands who had died of it in Africa but the single person who had it in Dallas.

he couldn't have been more than a few hours old when he died. Even in a jar, that kid has outearned me.

A child, a fifth-grader, has been used and discarded, a monstrous sacrifice to an unmistakable evil.

Era un desatino que luego de un bombardeo me llevaran cadáveres de tuberculosos o de alguien que rodó por las escaleras o de un viejo que no pudo más con su vejez o de una mujer que se quedó en el parto; eran muertos de segundo orden, pues no llevaban la aureola de víctimas, sino de meros impertinentes.

Next, the bystanders saw something large and dark fall from one of the windows. "Someone's in there, all right," said a voice in the crowd. "He's trying to save his best cloth." When the next bundle began falling, the onlookers realized that it was a human being.

Charlie made an art of living. He understood, as great artists do, that every life is a mixture of comedy and tragedy, joy and sorrow, daring and fear. We choose the tenor of our lives from those clashing notes. Even when Charlie's strength was fading, when the golf course had become an obstacle course, when the infirmity of encroaching time could no longer be denied, he chose to turn his wedge into a walking stick and to carry it with panache.

he knew no secrets to a long life, he knew plenty about a happy life. Through tragedy and loss, poverty and setbacks, missteps and blown chances, he maintained a steadiness, an evenness, and a self-reliance that today might be called resilience. He had a gift for seizing joy, grabbing opportunities, and holding on to things that

Six billion of us walking the planet, six billion smaller worlds on the bigger one. Shoe salesmen and short-order cooks who look boring from the outside - some have weirder lives than you. Six billion stories, every one an epic, full of tragedy and triumph, good and evil, despair and hope. You and me - we aren't so special, bro.

In tragedy and despair, when an endless night seems to have fallen, hope can be found in the realization taht the companion of night is not another night, that the companion of night is day, that darkness always gives way to light, and that death rules only half of creation, life the other half.

We're out of cocktail olives, it's a tragedy of historic proportions, but we're coping because we're Americans.

We who survive must go on in the names of those who fall, but if we dwell too much on the vivid details of what we've witnessed of man's inhumanity to man, we simply can't go on. Perseverance is impossible if we don't permit ourselves to hope.

From all these friends, I could not escape learning some of the statistics that I preferred not to know. Forty-one people at the mall had been wounded. Nineteen had died. Everyone said it was a miracle that only nineteen perished. What has gone wrong with our world when nineteen dead can seem like any kind of miracle?

Las noches ofrecen sapos, perros negro y cadáveres de ahogados.

Whichever came first—the act or the myth—human sacrifice is one of history's oldest locomotives. Much of literature is about scapegoats: comedy is the story of expulsion from the point of view of society; tragedy is the same story from the point of view of the outcast.