Quotes About Lamentation

I seed the clouds somewhere in the world, and bring a lamentation of rain. Because rain is the closest thing I have to tears.

That is where love and lamentation chance upon one another, and that is where we find God.

You maniacs! You blew it all up! Goddam you all. Goddam you all to hell.

By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept, Remembering thee.

There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.

There is one voice we never hear. God does not speak in the whole book of Lamentations.11 Heaven is silent. Which does not necessarily mean that heaven is deaf or blind. We shall consider later what Kathleen O'Connor calls 'the power of the missing voice'.

So loud was the wailing of the women and children that there was not one man among us whose heart did not bleed at the sound.

Is there anything so wretched as to look at a man of fine abilities doing nothing?

It is only the sentimentalist who imagines that the profundity of a person's response to tragedy is proportional to the length, volume, or shrillness of his lamentation.

They burnt not children before their teeth appeared, as apprehending their bodies too tender a morsel for fire, and that their gristly bones would scarce leave separable relicks after the pyral combustion. That they kindled not fire in their houses for some days after was a strict memorial of the late afflicting fire. And mourning without hope, they had an happy fraud against excessive lamentation, by a common opinion that deep sorrows disturb their ghosts.

Great were the lamentation and the cry when the news of this mischance was noised about the city. Such a tumult of mourning was never before heard, for the whole city was moved.

Somebody's voice rose in prayer, another simply sobbed. What grief was this? Not his passing, surely. He was too minor to earn such lamentation.

"It wasn't the wine," murmured Mr. Snodgrass, in a broken voice. "It was the salmon."

Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.

Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death, The noise was high. Ha! No more moving? Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were 't good? I think she stirs again—No. What's best to do? If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife— My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife. Oh, insupportable! Oh, heavy hour! Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse Of sun and moon, and that th' affrighted globe Should yawn at alteration.

I have never been given these words in this way before. This small piece of gospel, three parts hosanna, two parts testimony, one part lamentation.

We may need to learn how to lament and weep before the Lord and recognize our sins and those of our fellow Christians that have caused God to depart from our midst. In the midst of the pain of our lamentation, however, our confidence may yet be placed in God's faithfulness. As

Every once in a while, you let a word or phrase out and you want to catch it and bring it back. You can't do that. It's gone, gone forever.

Amusing Ourselves to Death is a call to action. It is, in my father's words, "an inquiry ... and a lamentation," yes, but it aspires to greater things. It is an exhortation to do something. It's a counterpunch to what my father thought daily TV news was: "inert, consisting of information that gives us something to talk about but cannot lead to any meaningful action.

When they reached the threshing floor of Atad, which is across the Jordan, they lamented and wailed loudly, and Joseph mourned for his father seven days.

Then the whole congregation lifted up their voices and cried out, and that night the people wept.

Then David took hold of his own clothes and tore them, and all the men who were with him did the same.

O mountains of Gilboa, may you have no dew or rain, no fields yielding offerings of grain. For there the shield of the mighty was defiled, the shield of Saul, no longer anointed with oil.

When Mordecai learned of all that had happened, he tore his clothes, put on sackcloth and ashes, and went out into the middle of the city, wailing loudly and bitterly.