Quotes About Tragedy

Families, friends and communities often find a source of courage rising up from within. Indeed, sadly, it seems that it is tragedy that often draws out the most and the best from the human spirit.

It is always one of the tragedies of any relationship, even between people sensitive to each other's moods, that the moments of emotion so rarely coincide.

Earth is a homicide victim. We lose our children. There are wars. Disease. And God comes strolling by like a cosmic Billie Burke.

Os próprios exorcistas, às vezes, se tornavam vítimas de possessão, como acontecera em 1634, no convento ursulino de freiras em Loudun, na França. Dos quatro exorcistas jesuítas que tinham sido mandados para lidar com uma epidemia de possessão, três deles — os padres Lucas, Lactance e Tranquille —, além de serem possuídos, morreram logo depois, vítimas de um aparente ataque cardíaco causado por hiperatividade psicomotora ininterrupta:

The gallantry of his grief did put me into a towering passion.

How soon my sorrow hath destroyed my face

These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume

The hind that would be mated by the lionMust die for love.

I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,And not have strew'd thy grave.

O Julius Caesar! thou art mighty yet!Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swordsIn our own proper entrails.

I found you as a morsel, cold uponDead Caesar's trencher.

Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily.

A plague o' both your houses!They have made worms' meat of me.

Malcolm: Dispute it like a man.Macduff: I shall do so;But I must also feel it as a man:I cannot but remember such things were,That were most precious to me.

My only love sprung from my only hate!Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

Great Caesar fell.O! what a fall was there, my countrymen;Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.

Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore CawdorShall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more!

And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,Never, never, never, never, never!Pray you, undo this button.

What's Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba,That he should weep for her?

For he being dead, with him is beauty slain,And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again.

I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.

Come away, come away, death,And in sad cypress let me be laid;Fly away, fly away, breath;I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

Why should I play the Roman fool; and dieOn mine own sword?

Murder most foul, as in the best it is.