Best 1203 quotes in «tragedy quotes» category

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    He who climbs upon the highest mountains laughs at all tragedies, real or imaginary.

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    His eyes were closing again, all of their own accord, so that he lay in red, pain-filled darkness. It occured to him that he was dying and he didn’t care. ‘He’s alive!’ Blue said again ‘He’s breathing!’ ‘I can’t see him breathing.

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    His life was a party which tragically came to an early end.

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    His thoughts are unfathomable & her emotions are all over the place. Oh! The tragedy of Love.

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    History is orphan. It can speak, but cannot hear. It can give, but cannot take. Its wounds and tragedies can be read and known, but cannot be avoided or cured.

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    Hope, in general, is dangerous. Hope can be the loose thread that pulls apart your sanity.

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    How beautiful the tragic seems when it is beneath a mask, but when it appears so nakedly before me and... when I am so forcibly implicated... I don't know whether I care for it so much. Somehow or other it is as though I were torturing myself. ("Thirty-Three Abominations")

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    How could it be? For weeks he'd run himself ragged, his only goal to keep her safe until the moment when he could no longer offer her protection. Now that moment had come and gone- and so did Luce

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    How does the world even keep going with so much pain and tragedy everywhere?

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    How tragic it is to find that an entire lifetime is wasted in pursuit of distractions while purpose is neglected.

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    How now! Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand." Lady Macbeth

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    How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world.

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    I am a playwright who does not write comedies, or tragedies.

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    I am dwelling on things I love, even if a measure of tragedy is stitched into everything, if you follow the thread long enough

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    I am not wise enough to know if there is ever purpose in tragedy, if there is ever virtue in resisting it. If it cannot be overcome, then grief has beaten you, and you are right to say so.

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    I am just an strong example of tragedy in eyes of others.

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    I became utterly addicted to her and the escape from reality we provided each other. Throughout the years, she had boyfriends and I had girlfriends, but there wasn't a single night that I didn’t hear her voice.

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    I believe that life is full of tragedy. Some lives more than others. But I also believe that comfort can be found with the people that love you . . . if you're willing to let them give it.

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    'Better to have loved and lost,' my ass. Anyone parroting that little platitude had obviously never lost anyone of consequence.

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    I cannot heave my heart into my mouth. I love your majesty according to my bond; no more no less.

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    He wishes he could remember everything. Anything. He doesn’t sense a bone in his body that can feel compassion or worthiness. Self-pity hides away as well, the lowest form of emotion not even capable of resting in his wrecked mind.

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    I can’t imagine that I’m supposed to get over it , like hopping a low stone wall; if Thursday was a barrier of some kind, it was made of razor wire, which I did not bound over but thrash through, leaving me in flayed pieces and on the other side of something only in a temporal sense.

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    I'd do anything to do it all over again, even if it ended this way still. Had I a choice, you know I would not go.

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    I didn't believe in gravity until I met you.

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    I despise common sense. I’ve seen the world from every possible angle. This cruel, ridiculous, beautiful world.

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    I don't want to sew. How else will the buttons get onto the coat?

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    I’d accepted my judgment without question. Agreed to live a mortal life. I didn’t know my memories would come with me; didn’t know I’d relive them every day. Death would have been more merciful.

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    I do have a point to all this,” she continues. “There are like twenty people in that waiting room right now. Some of them are related to you. Some of them are not. But we’re all your family.” She stops now. Leans over me so that the wisps of her hair tickle my face. She kisses me on the forehead. “You still have a family,” she whispers.

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    I don't like feeling sorry for myself. That's not who I am. And most of the time I don't feel that way. Instead, I am grateful for having at least found you. We could have flashed by one another like two pieces of cosmic dust. God or the universe or whatever one chooses to label the great systems of balance and order does not recognize Earth-time. To the universe, four days is no different than four billion light years. I try to keep that in mind. But, I am, after all, a man. And all the philosophic rationalizations I can conjure up do not keep me from wanting you, every day, every moment, the merciless wail of time, of time I can never spend with you, deep within my head. I love you, profoundly and completely. And I always will. The last cowboy, Robert

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    If comedy is tragedy plus time, I need more fucking time. But I would really settle for less fucking tragedy.” ~ Jon Stewart

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    I’d watched the election of Barack Obama with them, in Harlem: the celebration had spilled out onto the streets and erupted into dancing, outdoor champagne-drinking, euphoria. This [the 1/21/17 Women's March on Washington, DC] was different. It was like laughter at a funeral—what else can you do but hold on to who you are and who you love? What can you do but try to stay sane and fight like hell for what life is all about?

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    If I could take away his pain… If there was a way to transfer it from his soul onto mine. I would take it. Without hesitation I would take it all. Maybe that’s how you know you love someone. When you actually feel each tear they cry as if they were your own. When you feel each cut, each bruise, each hit as if you’re the one suffering. I bled for him.& in turn, he bled for her.Funny, how life comes full circle

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    If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, he's mine or I am his.

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    I don't really wanna know what makes you leave, or when you'll be back. I just wanna know what will make me cry at your arrival.

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    If I had spoken to him out loud, he would have understood the tragic fate of those who came back, left over, living dead. You must look at them carefully. Their appearance is deceptive. They are smugglers. They look like the others. They eat, they laugh, they love. The seek money, fame, love. Like the other. But it isn't true; they are playing, sometimes without even knowing it. Anyone who has seen what THEY have seen cannot be like the others, cannot laugh, love, pray, bargain, suffer, have fun, or forget. Like the others. You have to watch them carefully when they pass by an innocent-looking smokestack, or when they lift a piece of bread to their mouths. Something in them shudders and makes you turn your eyes away. These people have been amputated; they haven't lost their legs or eyes, but their will and their taste for life. The things they have seen will come to the surface again sooner or later. And then the world will be frightened and won't dare look these spiritual cripples in the eye.

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    I find myself enjoying being alone a lot of the time, people come and people go and you have to find a way to be ok with both.

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    If sickness brought glory God, Jesus would have spread disease, not healed it.

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    If she lived, doubtless we must have been sometimes in search of each other, at the very same moment, through the mighty labyrinths of London; perhaps, even within a few feet of each other - a barrier no wider in a London street, often amounting in the end to a separation for eternity!

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    If she’s gonna love again, it won’t be an eternity but a hard, fast conflagration that leaves everyone else in the embers.

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    If not for tragedy, tyrants, and injustice, there would be nothing to awaken and inspire dormant heroes. There is always a balance. Always.

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    If tragedy is about the fact that people are mortal, then comedy is about the fools we make of ourselves on the way to the grave.

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    I followed many conversations about what happened in Norway and the death of Amy Winehouse because they happened one after the next. Too many of those conversations tried to conflate the two events, tried to create some kind of hierarchy of tragedy, grief, call, response. There was so much judgment, so much interrogation of grief—how dare we mourn a singer, an entertainer, a girl-woman who struggled with addiction, as if the life of an addict is somehow less worthy a life, as if we are not entitled to mourn unless the tragedy happens to the right kind of people. How dare we mourn a singer when across an ocean seventy-seven people are dead? We are asked these questions as if we only have the capacity to mourn one tragedy at a time, as if we must measure the depth and reach of a tragedy before deciding how to respond, as if compassion and kindness are finite resources we must use sparingly. We cannot put these two tragedies on a chart and connect them with a straight line. We cannot understand these tragedies neatly.

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    If the sky falls, there'll be a bigger sky behind it.

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    If we could only get rid of consciousness. What makes mankind tragic is not that they are the victims of nature, it is that they are conscious of it. To be part of the animal kingdom under the conditions of this earth is very well--but as soon as you know of your slavery, the pain, the anger, the strife--the tragedy begins. We can't return to nature, since we can't change our place in it. Our refuge is in stupidity [...] There is no morality, no knowledge, and no hope; there is only the consciousness of ourselves which drives us about a world that [...] is always but a vain and floating appearance.

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    if you let tragedy change you, You have already lost.

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    If we were entirely sane, if madness did not have a serious grip on one side of us, other people's tragedies would hold a great deal less interest for us.

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    If you pursue this road that you've embarked upon, you will eventually come to moral decisions that will take you completely by surprise

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    I get drunk on emotions.

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    If we people become more helpful to others, there will be much less tragedy in the world!

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    If your life is like a tragedy it is because you have been neglecting something — most likely yourself.