Best 1080 quotes in «cry quotes» category

  • By Anonym

    Instead of hating, my heart cries mercy! Mercy on me! Mercy on me! Mercy on me!

  • By Anonym

    I part my lips, but no words come out. I want to cry. Want to beg. Want to scream. But mostly, I want to hold him until I know he’s going to be okay. Then I want him to hold me until I’m okay, too.

  • By Anonym

    I regret all the prayers that do not shed tears.

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    I sob and clutch my stuffed bunny. Nick leaps up on my bed and squashes his body against mine, nuzzling my face with his muzzle until I lift it enough for him to lick away my tears. While the pixie rages downstairs, I wrap my arms around Nick’s furry body and cry into him. My shoulders quake from the effort of it. He whimpers once or twice and tries to lick my face some more, but mostly he watches the door, and eventually I stop with the pathetic sobbing stuff and just keep crying.

  • By Anonym

    I spent days and nights staring at the blank page, searching the deepest corners of my mind: who have I been, what have I seen, what did I learn? I thought about all the nights I've spent outside, all the times I laid down to cry and how I took a deep breath every morning and decided to simply go on. Because what else is there to do? Decide that this is it? I quit, I'm done? Oh if I could find words to justify those feelings I've carried. I could write the thickest of books with explosions of emotions from a young girl's lost heart. I could make you see, make you hear, make you feel, at least a tiny fragment of what's out there.

  • By Anonym

    It doesn't mean anything; It doesn't change anything, Except the way I see myself, And it's not supposed to do that. I shouldn't feel this way; I should cry this way, But I kind of do. Yeah, I kind of do.

  • By Anonym

    It fluttered Nicholas's collar and made his eyes water, blurring the stars. And then the sensation of tears seemed to trigger a sort of emotional reflex, for the next thing he knew, Nicholas was truly crying, which surprised him.

  • By Anonym

    İstediği zaman gözyaşlarını içine akıtıp gülümseyebilme yeteneğine sahip olmuştu.Bu yüzden de gözyaşlarının gerçek olup olmadığını o da anlamıyordu. Oscar'lı bir oyuncu gibiydi.

  • By Anonym

    It did no good to cry, she had learned that early on.

  • By Anonym

    I think this is one bad side of a mirror; it helps us to see the reflection of the effects of our own actions on ourselves. We smile and it smiles back to us, we frown and it frowns to us. How I wish it shows us the reflections of the effects of our actions on other people as well so that we will be conscious!

  • By Anonym

    I think we cry to release the animal parts of us without losing our humanity. Because inside me is a beast that snarls, and growls, and strains toward freedom, toward Tobias, and, above all, toward life. And as hard as I try, I cannot kill it.

  • By Anonym

    I throw my eyes back to the sky. How can it be so bright and calm? How can it be everything I can’t be? It's not fair.

  • By Anonym

    I thought you were dead,” I say. “It almost killed me.” “Did it?” His voice is neutral. “You made a pretty fast recovery.” “No. You don’t understand.” My throat is tight; I feel as though I’m being strangled. “I couldn’t keep hoping, and then waking up every day and finding out it wasn’t true, and you were still gone. I—I wasn’t strong enough.” He is quiet for a second. It’s too dark to see his expression: He is standing in shadow again, but I can sense that he is staring at me. Finally he says, “When they took me to the Crypts, I thought they were going to kill me. They didn’t even bother. They just left me to die. They threw me in a cell and locked the door.” “Alex.” The strangled feeling has moved from my throat to my chest, and without realizing it, I have begun to cry. I move toward him. I want to run my hands through his hair and kiss his forehead and each of his eyelids and take away the memory of what he has seen. But he steps backward, out of reach. “I didn’t die. I don’t know how. I should have. I’d lost plenty of blood. They were just as surprised as I was. After that it became a kind of game—to see how much I could stand. To see how much they could do to me before I’d—” He breaks off abruptly. I can’t hear any more; don’t want to know, don’t want it to be true, can’t stand to think of what they did to him there. I take another step forward and reach for his chest and shoulders in the dark. This time, he doesn’t push me away. But he doesn’t embrace me either. He stands there, cold, still, like a statue. “Alex.” I repeat his name like a prayer, like a magic spell that will make everything okay again. I run my hands up his chest and to his chin. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Suddenly he jerks backward, simultaneously finding my wrists and pulling them down to my sides. “There were days I would rather they have killed me.” He doesn’t drop my wrists; he squeezes them tightly, pinning my arms, keeping me immobilized. His voice is low, urgent, and so full of anger it pains me even more than his grip. “There were days I asked for it—prayed for it when I went to sleep. The belief that I would see you again, that I could find you—the hope for it—was the only thing that kept me going.” He releases me and takes another step backward. “So no. I don’t understand.

  • By Anonym

    It is the hypocrisy of this society, which lets a man laugh but not cry.

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    It is useless to cry over a thing which is not belong to you....

  • By Anonym

    It is weird to see how people sometimes doesn't value and ignore the love and effort of the people who love them and try to stay. They push them away only to realise everything they did after they leave and make their memories as pillows to sleep over and cry upon it later.

  • By Anonym

    It's a comedy, but I'm sure I'll cry.

  • By Anonym

    It's like, when someone asks you how you are and even though you want to say that you feel like shit, that you're miserable, that you cry until you gag and spend most of your time imagining ways to kill yourself, instead you just say, 'Fine, thanks.

  • By Anonym

    It’s not really outstanding when you’re standing out Outcry is the only outburst,if you can’t shout

  • By Anonym

    It takes a lot of sorrows inside one's heart to make them cry, break and to lose hope. But it simply takes reminiscing a happy memory to make one smile instantly. So make as many happy memories as you can!

  • By Anonym

    I was not looking for HIM, he was just always there, the little BOY! I have not seen HIM, because I did not want to see, but HE was standing next to my bed every night, the little BOY! I have not heard their cry because I have forbidden HIM there to cry. But one day, when I woke up, did I knew seen, so sad and lonely! I wanted to tell HIM that it's all going to be good. But I could not because I knew that it is not so! And we both cried, I and the LITTLE BOY IN ME!

  • By Anonym

    I will love you like the desert burns along the sun when they are together, and when you will be gone, just like every one else, I will cry for you like the snow that melts at the first hint of summer... and hoping that you'll be back I will miss you like the clouds lose themselves when it rains...

  • By Anonym

    Love is that indefinable moment of brokenheartedness when you cry and someone weeps with your tears

  • By Anonym

    Love more, hurt less. Laugh more, cry less. Live more, worry less. Give more, take less. Hug more, fight less. And most important.. Remember that we are all one! We are love! I LOVE YOU ALL!

  • By Anonym

    Lying there, feeling safe in his tight embrace, a tear escaped my resolute eye and darkened his purple shirt. I usually do not cry when I am afraid, but invariably did when I felt safe and cocooned, like I felt in the confines of his strong, sure arms.

  • By Anonym

    Many men, One Cry One Woman, a Pleasant Pride.

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    Mary considers how the womb stirs and years for its children, even after they have grown and gone off to other lives. The womb remembers. The womb knows how to weep.

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    Many people think less of a man if he cries because it supposedly shows a sign of weakness, but I beg to differ. A man that’s in touch with his feelings is absolutely beautiful! I admire, respect, and appreciate their braveness to be vulnerable. Crying is NOT a weakness. We cannot expect our men to be strong all of the time. That’s SO unfair! They have feelings, too. Don’t ever make a man feel less than just because he cries. Comfort, love, and support him. Show him that you genuinely care.

  • By Anonym

    Maybe I'd see how you could be so certain that we had no chance...at all.

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    Maybe she didn't cry because tears were a currency in her life for so long that holding them back meant she was richer.

  • By Anonym

    Mirad had asked for peace for his birthday. Imagine, a boy of thirteen who asks for peace as a birthday present. When I heard that I cried.

  • By Anonym

    Mourn, cry, be sad god doesn't give a fuck. The life has been taken in one or other way and it can't be done anything that's all, it's not big philosophy - it's short and it can't be more longer than this!

  • By Anonym

    Mr. Albert? Mr. Albert?” Harley said. “Just Albert’s fine,” Albert said tersely. “Me and Janice are thirsty.” “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any water on me.” He managed a tight smile and moved on. But now Janice was crying and Harley was pleading. “We used to live with Mary and she gave us water. But now we have to live with Summer and BeeBee and they said we have to have money.” “Then I guess you’d better earn some money,” Albert said. He tried to soften it, tried not to sound harsh, but he had a lot on his mind and it came out sounding mean. Now Harley started to cry, too. “If you’re thirsty, stop crying,” Albert snapped. “What do you think tears are made of?

  • By Anonym

    My body weeps to live when you make me believe that someday I will be dead soul sleepless in graveyard's bed

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    My ghost is the only soul who ever comes to cry on my grave... Only the skies cried sincerely on my funeral.

  • By Anonym

    My hopes & dreams don't die. With all the suffering, I sometimes ask- Why? They are manipulative, deceitful and they lie. My health aint good, where do I go running away and die? But then I sigh. I cling to others on purpose, as I am strong enough to try. I have nothing to lose. Either I hit the ground or touch the sky. Trust me, it's ok even if each time, I cry.

  • By Anonym

    My love, you are driving the entire world mad. The nightingales are committing suicide one by one out of jealousy of your voice. The roses took one glance at your beauty and folded themselves from shame. The trees now only whisper your name and the sky hasn’t stopped crying since you looked up. Have pity on us, my love. We have already broken all the mirrors and glass out of fear that you will forget us and fall in love with yourself once you see what we all cannot stop seeing.

  • By Anonym

    My tears of joy hear the raindrops crying, as the rain never wants to pour down on my cloudy days when I make our love-dreams for the sun to dream only for you.... (From the poem "Only For You" By Munia Khan)

  • By Anonym

    My wife and I said good-bye the next morning in a little sheltered place among the lumber on the wharf; she was one of your women who never like to do their crying before folks. She climbed on the pile of lumber and sat down, a little flushed and quivery, to watch us off. I remember seeing her there with the baby till we were well down the channel. I remember noticing the bay as it grew cleaner, and thinking that I would break off swearing; and I remember cursing Bob Smart like a pirate within an hour. ("Kentucky's Ghost")

  • By Anonym

    Never come late to a party you were supposed to host. Second chances are rare. If you miss them... cry.

  • By Anonym

    Never cry because you have mountains of problem in your hands to solve. Always smile because each problems will someday resolve.

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    Nonsense. You aren’t alive to begin with,” I pointed out. “Suck it up and make the best of it, Milo. The future is bright, I assure you.” “We come into existence, and we float through space, doomed, until we all die horribly. No reason to live at all.” Milo the busboy wept uncontrollably. He probably knew more than I did, but who can say?

  • By Anonym

    I've had enough of these streets that sweat a cold, yellow slime, of hostile people, of crying myself to sleep every night. I've had enough of thinking, enough of remembering.

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    No one knows if I'm dying to laugh or to cry So my verse has this almost imperceptible thrill Life is sad, the world is crazy! Not worth killing yourself for it Not for anyone For no love Life goes on, indifferently!

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    Nostalgia, she knew, has the power to make you smile and also to make you cry.

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    No tear, is a wasted tear, if it spills out for love, whether in good times or bad.

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    No teas come, only memories. Memories and regrets.

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    Oh... Blip. Yeah, I see." He sounds distracted, awed. "Your child," I whisper. "Our child." He counters.

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    One must be honest with himself. Then it will be much better than it is now.

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    Parched by the deprivation of your love for so long made me forget what a cup brimming with love, on my lips, felt like. Everything that now wets it, only wrinkles it with a bland taste.