Quotes About Tragedy

They say that one of the reasons for tragedy is that you learn important lessons from it.

I just wish it hadn't happened four days before Thanksgiving. It's going to spoil the holiday to have everyone so gloomy.

When Catherine told me about this (tragedy nearby), I could only say, shocked, Dear God, that family needs grace. She replied firmly, That family needs casseroles, and then proceeded to organize the entire neighborhood into bringing that family dinner, in shifts, every single night, for an entire year. I do not know if my sister fully recognizes that this _is_ grace.

Venice seems like a wonderful city in which to die a slow and alcoholic death, or to lose a loved one, or to lose the murder weapon with which the loved one was lost in the first place.

There's a hole in our world from all the art those people did not make—there is a hole in us from the loss of their work—and I cannot imagine this was ever anyone's divine plan.

Peg could handle anything—war, catastrophe, failure, death of a relative, a cheating husband, the demolition of her beloved theater—without shedding a tear, but great moments in sports history always made her weepy.)

Oh, yes. I suppose not many remember now, but Maximus was so shattered by the deaths of his parents that he went mute for a full fortnight. Why, some of the quacks that came to look at him said his brain was addled by the tragedy. That he'd never speak again. Rubbish, of course. It simply took him time to come to rights again. He was quite sane. Just a sensitive boy." A boy who, when he came to himself again, was no longer a boy but the Duke of Wakefield, Artemis thought.

A suicide bomber detonated a massive bomb outside a café in Jerusalem this afternoon. Eleven Israelis were killed. Four of them were secondary-school students, relaxing after their exams. The bomber has not been named.

Grief lasts longer than sympathy, which is one of the tragedies of the grieving.

All I can say is, it's a sort of kinship, as though there is a family tree of grief. On this branch, the lost children, on this the suicided parents, here the beloved mentally ill siblings. When something terrible happens, you discover all of the sudden that you have a new set of relatives, people with whom you can speak in the shorthand of cousins.

He's right that war destroys … can destroy everything.

Lady Baskerville paced up and down wringing her hands. She required only an armful of weedy flowers to make a somewhat mature Ophelia.

People are sorry for brides who lose their husbands early, from some accident, or war. And they should be sorry, Mrs Palfrey thought. But the other thing is worse.

For I'm afraid of loneliness; shiveringly, terribly afraid. I don't mean the ordinary physical loneliness, for here I am, deliberately travelled away from London to get to it, to its spaciousness and healing. I mean that awful loneliness of spirit that is the ultimate tragedy of life. When you've got to that, really reached it, without hope, without escape, you die. You just can't bear it, and you die.

But a part of me lies buried in lace and roses on a riverbank in France-a part of me is broken off forever. A part of me will be unflyable, stuck in the climb.

It's awful, telling it like this, isn't it? As though we didn't know the ending. As though it could have another ending. It's like watching Romeo drink poison. Every time you see it you get fooled into thinking his girlfriend might wake up and stop him. Every single time you see it you want to shout, 'You stupid ass, just wait a minute,' and she'll open her eyes! 'Oi, you , you twat, open your eyes, wake up! Don't die this time!' But they always do.

As someone very sagely said during the parricide trials of the Menendez Brothers: anytime your kids kill you, you are at least partly to blame.

In spite of the horror, in spite of the tragedy, in spite of the weeks of sleepless nights, I'm finally alive. I'm not pretending. I feel real. I'm not playing charades anymore. I wouldn't go back to the way I was for anything. I'm really like a different person. I'm where I am, and I'm making the most of it. I know I'm courageous now. I found out I had it in me to face this. — Barbara

You can look at my life and say there've been some real tragedies, and there have been. But there've also been some exquisitely beautiful times. To me, those far outweigh the others.

Infants were tossed up in the air and used as the targets for machine guns

for every untimely death, every man cut down in his vigour and strength without time for repentance and reparation, is one corpse too many.

unsuspectingly around the ice hummock to his death with his tail wagging.

Elaine the fair, Elaine the lovable,Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat.

She left the web, she left the loom,She made three paces thro' the room,She saw the water-lily bloom,She saw the helmet and the plume,She look'd down to Camelot.Out flew the web and floated wide;The mirror crack'd from side to side."The curse is come upon me," criedThe Lady of Shalott.