Best 1 851 of Sad quotes - MyQuotes
There is no greater despair, than to tread with care upon ice that is already broken
Broken pencils still write beautiful songs.
It was never a lingering sadness in result of us not being together. It was more so your arrogance towards the situation that brought on the sadness.
Love does these three things effectively: multiplies joy, divides trouble, subtracts grief, and adds peace.
I tried to fight the panic and force it back down to where it had come from.
I took him to the river and said “let’s watch something drown,” So he took a stone and I took my necklace and we threw it all together, the way I always think I will get better in July. Things will change and sounds won’t ache and I gave my heart to uncertainty so many times, and so I took him to the river, threw the necklace in the river to slowly watch it drown, or burn, or fade away like I’ve done so many times.
Opportunity comes to everyone it depends on you whether you take it or leave it. Learn to take risks and play hard because at the end you'd be thankful for your struggle.
my own chocolate center has filled up with poison, the roses he gave me all twisted black
Coming back to life' is perhaps the toughest battle we keep fighting forever. U never know when will ur life throw u down from Zenith to Nadir and then the journey restarts again...
Take a shower, wash off the day. Drink a glass of water. Make the room dark. Lie down and close your eyes. Notice the silence. Notice your heart. Still beating. Still fighting. You made it, after all. You made it, another day. And you can make it one more. You’re doing just fine.
If you’re searching for a quote that puts your feelings into words – you won’t find it. You can learn every language and read every word ever written – but you’ll never find what’s in your heart. How can you? He has it.
I’m glad I married you too, Harper,” I whispered into her hair, “because I’m in love with you.” But she didn’t hear, gone into a dream.
Quando vedono troppe cose, gli esseri umani diventano stranamente tristi.
There were those days in life when you were trying to win me. And there are days now when you decided to lose me.
He looked so sad. I never saw him look sad before, he was always so superior, everywhere the king. You once called him a god from elsewhere who had lost his way.
The only lie I ever told you is that I liked you when I already knew I loved you.
ស្ថានភាពនារីរត់តុម្នាក់កាលពីថ្ងៃមុន ដែលខ្ញុំបានជួបនូវហាងសាច់អាំងមួយកន្លែង ខ្ញុំមានអារម្មណ៍សង្វែកចិត្តណាស់ នៅពេលដែលគាត់ធ្វើការមួយយប់ៗ បានប្រាក់ខែ ប្រហែលពី១០០ ទៅ១២០ដុល្លារប៉ុណ្ណោះ ប៉ុន្តែគាត់ប្រើទូរស័ព្ទiPhone5 ទោះមួយទឹកក្ដី ក៏វានៅតែថ្លៃគួរសមសម្រាប់ស្ថានភាពគាត់។ តើយុវជន យុវនារីខ្មែរប្រភេទមួយនេះ មានច្រើនប៉ុណ្ណា ដែលមិនស្គាល់ពីតម្រូវការពិតប្រាកដរបស់ខ្លួន ហើយបែរត្រលប់ទៅជាចំណាយញើសឈាម រត់តាមសង្គមដែលគ្មានតម្លៃអ្វីទាល់តែសោះ។ ប្រើជីវិតរស់នៅទៅតាមតែចិត្តដែលគ្មានការអប់រំ ដោយមិនគិតពីគុណប្រយោជន៍នៃជីវិតដែលកើតមកជាមនុស្ស។ អ្វីដែលធ្វើអោយខ្ញុំតឹងទ្រូង នោះគឺថា តើខ្ញុំត្រូវយកមេរៀនរបស់ LDP បញ្ចូលអោយអ្នកទៅតាមណា ដើម្បីអោយវាចូលទៅដល់ក្បាលរបស់អ្នកតែម្ដង កុំអោយវានៅទើត្រឹមតែកន្លែងណាមួយ?
Though these words will never find you, I hope that you knew I was thinking of you today….. and that I was wishing you every happiness. Love Always, The girl you loved once.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
I knew it the first of the summer, I knew it the same at the end, That you and your love were plighted, But couldn't you be my friend?
Truth is neither joyful nor sad, neither good nor bad. It is simply truth.
I’d like to think that the day I realize we will always be miserable will differ from every other. I hope it will so obnoxiously stand out from the monotonous cycle of my days, that I wouldn’t forget that sorrowful moment of comprehension. But, when that breeze of reality comes by, it wont be a memorable hurricane, nor a momentous tornado. It will be the same, sad, soft wind that I felt the day before, and the day before that. Because the moment you understand your inevitable misery in life, may also be the day you see you are to always be dejected.
I will tell you a story, one I used to tell to a little boy with dark hair. A silent boy who rarely laughs, who listened more closely than I realized. A boy who had a name and not a title
I told you I loved you, but I said it a little too late. You move in time and sometimes our timing is against one another.
I felt angry, frustrated. I felt I didn't belong, not in my, church, not in my home, not in my skin.
Becky was a weed. Nobody ever wanted them taking over the bigger, prettier plants. People went to all extremes to make them go away. They sprayed poison, pulled until the roots gave way. They felt only like their garden was complete when every tendril was extirpated. This was how she felt from birth.
There is something mystically sad and beautiful about how i will never see you again but meet you again and again in poetry.
Create your own path.Don't blindly follow the massess... because most of the time the "M" is silent.
Most men are blinded by the words "Bad Bitches" and end settling for less!
I just wish that God or my parents or Sam or my sister or someone would just tell me what's wrong with me. Just tell me how to be different in a way that makes sense.
The stars stare back In that deep, Soul-shattering blackness And from the depths of existence Comes a cruel, icy wind Raising the hairs On the back of your neck And suddenly it feels Like you’re walking a tightrope Over that endless abyss On one sad, fraying, thin Violin string.
THE Biggest enemy of Truth is known as Facts in our Society
Jonathan Safran Foer
I will walk without noise and I will open the door in darkness and I will
In a polished surface of metal I happen to notice my reflected face; it wears a pale, beaten lonely look, eyes looking out at nothing with an expression of fear, frightened and lonely in a nightmare world. Something, I don’t know what, makes me think of my childhood; I remember myself as a schoolchild sitting at a hard wooden desk, and then as a little girl with thick, fair, wind-tossed hair, feeding the swans in a park. And it seems both strange and sad to me that all those childish years were spent in preparation for this – that, forgotten by everybody, with a beaten face, I should serve machinery in a place far away from the sun.
Nothing is miserable unless you think it so.
Forever?" Sam's lips smiled, but above his grin, his yellow eyes turned sad, as if he knew it was a lie. "Longer.
Oh! To live alone, always alone, in the midst of the crowd that surrounds me, without a word of love ever coming to gladden my soul, without a friendly hand reaching out to me!
No one knew what was wrong with me or what kind of sick joke my head was playing, but it felt like a ninja was chopping my heart.
Nothing is endless I know that now Let me go V -Violet's letter
And wilderness is paradise now.
Pray GOD by HEART, Not by HABIT.
Its sweet bird's nest is full of pain in a distant place
Someone somewhere may be one of the most important person to you currently but you will always be nothing more than a backup plan to them.
Lailah Gifty Akita
Without a song, the soul grieve in sad spirit.
He looked at me like I was the stars when all I’d ever felt like was the dark nothingness between them.
Casey Renee Kiser
I get happy and I get sad, just like anybody else but they call this a disorder.
I turned to go home. Street lights winked down the street all the way to town. I had never seen our neighborhood from this angle. There were Miss Maudie’s, Miss Stephanie’s—there was our house, I could see the porch swing—Miss Rachel’s house was beyond us, plainly visible. I could even see Mrs. Dubose’s. I looked behind me. To the left of the brown door was a long shuttered window. I walked to it, stood in front of it, and turned around. In daylight, I thought, you could see to the postoffice corner. Daylight… in my mind, the night faded. It was daytime and the neighborhood was busy. Miss Stephanie Crawford crossed the street to tell the latest to Miss Rachel. Miss Maudie bent over her azaleas. It was summertime, and two children scampered down the sidewalk toward a man approaching in the distance. The man waved, and the children raced each other to him. It was still summertime, and the children came closer. A boy trudged down the sidewalk dragging a fishingpole behind him. A man stood waiting with his hands on his hips. Summertime, and his children played in the front yard with their friend, enacting a strange little drama of their own invention. It was fall, and his children fought on the sidewalk in front of Mrs. Dubose’s. The boy helped his sister to her feet, and they made their way home. Fall, and his children trotted to and fro around the corner, the day’s woes and triumphs on their faces. They stopped at an oak tree, delighted, puzzled, apprehensive. Winter, and his children shivered at the front gate, silhouetted against a blazing house. Winter, and a man walked into the street, dropped his glasses, and shot a dog. Summer, and he watched his children’s heart break. Autumn again, and Boo’s children needed him. Atticus was right. One time he said you never really know a man until you stand in his shoes and walk around in them. Just standing on the Radley porch was enough.
You are rotting away, you are falling to pieces. What are you? A bag of filth. Now turn around and look into that mirror again. Do you see that thing facing you? That is the last man. If you are human, that is humanity. Now put your clothes on again.
Every morning I sit at the kitchen table over a tall glass of water swallowing pills. (So my hands won’t shake.) (So my heart won’t race.) (So my face won’t thaw.) (So my blood won’t mold.) (So the voices won’t scream.) (So I don’t reach for knives.) (So I keep out of the oven.) (So I eat every morsel.) (So the wine goes bitter.) (So I remember the laundry.) (So I remember to call.) (So I remember the name of each pill.) (So I remember the name of each sickness.) (So I keep my hands inside my hands.) (So the city won’t rattle.) (So I don’t weep on the bus.) (So I don’t wander the guardrail.) (So the flashbacks go quiet.) (So the insomnia sleeps.) (So I don’t jump at car horns.) (So I don’t jump at cat-calls.) (So I don’t jump a bridge.) (So I don’t twitch.) (So I don’t riot.) (So I don’t slit a strange man’s throat.)
Saying sorry doesn't mean there isn't guilt & forgiving doesn't mean that the pain is gone.
Seneca The Younger
Whereas a prolonged life is not necessarily better, a prolonged death is necessarily worse.