Best 1203 quotes in «tragedy quotes» category

Francis stared down at the Duchess of York's letter. He swallowed, then read aloud in a husky voice, "It was showed by John Sponer that King Richard, late mercifully reigning upon us, was through great treason piteously slain and murdered, to the great heaviness of this City." As Margaret listened, the embittered grey eyes had softened, misted with sudden tears. "My brother may lie in an untended grave," she said, "but he does not lack for an epitaph.

From drama to tragedy is a short step.

From "The Jasmine Farm" by Elizabeth von Arnim, c 1934: "...except for a little trickle of water somewhere near, and the piping, on an oleander bush, of a solitary bird, so great a stillness surrounded her that in the whole world there might have been no one but herself. Relaxed she sat, her hands palm upwards on her lap, her mouth open because she was too tired to keep it shut. If she had known it, she was being exquisitely welcomed. The scented air, floating past her, lingered to pat her face. From a row of Madonna lilies, under the windows of the house, came fragrance, crossing the grass to greet her. Slanting shadows cooled her. The bird piped away, as if to her alone, songs of wisdom and good cheer. She was surrounded, companioned, pressed upon by beauty; and, for all she saw of it, it might have been Tottenham Court Road in a fog. 'Lift up your heart,' something whispered--'foolish woman, lift up your heart.' But of what use is it to exhort the absorbed, those who are steeped in their own particular tragedies, to do things like that? She heard the whisper, she recognised that familiar words were drifting through her mind, and all she did about it was listlessly to wonder that anybody had enough energy to lift up anything.

Game or no, she would someday die, as all living beings did. But that wasn't the tragedy. Nor was there tragedy in being a pawn. All souls are, if not of eternal beings, then as pawns of their own bodies. The game, whatever shape it takes, lasts only as long as the body holds out. The tragedy, every time, is choosing something other than love.

Garfield's assassination attempt made "the whole nation care".

God allows us to face the tension whether we like it or not.

God knows whatever comes your way, in any given circumstance.

God is well able to turn your tragedies into triumphs.

Going back to normal after someone had died was never easy. When that someone had been brutally killed, all bets were off.

Good poetry reveals the beauty of joy and tragedy.

Grief is times bailiff sent to evict you from your old life. Its black warrant demands of you hard labour. There can be no escape of reprieve. You must toil laying down the foundation stones of acceptance, stone by stone, until you have paved your way to your new life.

Had he not resembled My father as he slept I had done't!" Macbeth

Hands that never touch. Lips that never meet. The Almost Lovers, never to be.

Hate is a bottomless cup; I will pour and pour

Hélas! de vos malheurs innocente ou coupable, / De quoi pour vous sauver n'étais-je point capable?

Heaven-gates are not so highly arched As princes' palaces; they that enter there Must go upon their knees.

Have you ever thought, when something dreadful happens, "a moment ago, things were not like this; let it be then, not now, anything but now?" And you try and try to remake then, but you know you can't. So you try to hold the moment quite still and not let it move on and show itself. - Nine Coaches Waiting

He hadn't known her, didn't know her, of course. There wasn't the time.

Her tragedy hadn't made her more approachable, and in fact lent her the unknowable quality of a person who had suffered more than could be expressed.

Her mother wears it in her eyes: the grief, the regrets, the guilt. She has the body of a twenty-year-old. Eyes like she’s fifty. Dark purple circles. Wrinkle wings along the edges. This woman who used to fill her mind with princess stories, castles and dragons and magic rings that transported Lyric to other worlds. But there are no castles on the southeast side. And the only princesses in Grand Rapids are white and Dutch and oblivious to this life.

her heart was the defendant,in the court waiting for the last decision and the judge was th mind.is it the end of love

He's been through so much and to watch that boy suffer makes me wish this world wasn't so cruel.

He's opening a door, but he already knows I won't walk through. The power of Bodee is in the way he reads me, sees through me, and then understands the truth behind the facade. He's the guy who can walk straight through the House of Mirrors on the first try. It's almost annoying. No one should ride tragedy like a pro surfer while I drown.

Here's how you think about it: Together you constructed many things throughout your life. Then her body disappeared, but the constructions still remain. Human beings die: That's natural. But to accept her death is to lose all hope.

Her occupation was the worst that anyone could think of. No guest in the park had to think of it because, unlike the wandering dwarf women, her job had no bearing on paper.

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

He unclenched his fists and dropped her worries, unable to catch them for her. But she picked them back up and dusted them off. She wants to be able to hold them herself now.

He thought perhaps it was a woman's way, to come out of such a storm of emotion and pain as if she were a ship emerging onto calm seas. She had seemed, not at peace, but emptied of sorrow. As if she had run out of that particular emotion and no other one arose to take its place.

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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

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

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")

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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.