Quotes About Tragedy

And Samuel could remember hearing of a cousin of his mother's in Ireland, a knight and rich and handsome, and anyway shot himself on a silken couch, sitting beside the most beautiful woman in the world who loved him. "There's a capacity for appetite," Samuel said, "that a whole heaven and earth of cake can't satisfy.

And I get to tend the rabbits…Lennie giggled with happiness.

Liza with her acceptance could take care of tragedy; she had no real hope this side of Heaven.

Then Samuel died and the world shattered like a dish.

A war comes always to someone else...The war, at first anyway, was for other people...And just as war is always for somebody else, so it is also true that someone else always gets killed. And Mother of God! that wasn't true either...

In all such local tragedies time works like a damp brush on water color. The sharp edges blur, the ache goes out of it, the colors melt together, and from the many separated lines a solid gray emerges.

Her full face was not soft; it was controlled, kindly. Her hazel eyes seemed to have experienced all possible tragedy and to have mounted pain and suffering like steps into a high calm and a superhuman understanding.

Her hazel eyes seemed to have experienced all possible tragedy and to have mounted pain and suffering like steps into a high calm and a superhuman understanding. She seemed to know, to accept, to welcome her position, the citadel of the family

There is a here that goes beyond denunciation. There is a sorrow here that weeping cannot symbolize. There is a failure here that topples all your success.

You're pretty full of yourself. You're marveling at the tragic spectacle of Caleb Trask—Caleb the magnificent, the unique. Caleb whose suffering should have its Homer. Did you ever think of yourself as a snot-nose kid—mean sometimes, incredibly generous sometimes? Dirty in your habits, and curiously pure in your mind. Maybe you have a little more energy than most, just energy, but outside of that you're very like all the other snot-nose kids.

It is the dull eventless times that have no duration whatever. A time splashed with interest, wounded with tragedy, crevassed with joy -- that's the time that seems long in the memory. And this is right when you think about it. Eventlessness has no posts to drape duration on. From nothing to nothing is no time at all.

Kiev deve ter sido em tempos uma bela cidade... E agora é pouco mais que uma ruína... Não se tratou de combates, mas sim da destruição demencial de todas as instalações culturais que a cidade tinha, e da quase totalidade dos belos edifícios erguidos ao longo de mil ans

I would like to go to Russia very much — although the bastards murdered half my family.

The bastards murdered half my family.

My homie lost his family and snapped, shot up half the block to bring them back.

A woman who'd lost her first son consoled us with an angel gone ahead to pray for our family-- gone into that sky seeking oxygen, gone into autopsy

Eunice Parchman killed the Coverdale family because she could not read or write.

There have been a lot of murders and suicides in my family; it's like the primary cause of death. I wonder if there's a certain energy that attracts that.

The family that prays together, still probably dies in the fire.

One evening, after a particularly terrible row, the prince smashed his princess over the head with an old wooden clock and she tumbled to the floor, dead.

Nothing nice happens to murdered women.

All stories are ultimately about the fall.

My father, who had previously been a civil engineer, died in the great influenza epidemic of 1918.

My father was a very successful businessman, but he was ruined in the stock market crash. A big stockbroker jumped out the window and fell on his pushcart.