Best 2955 quotes in «sadness quotes» category

No, I mean really listen. Here's a story, and you don't have to visit many houses to find it. One person is talking, the other one is not really listening. someone can look like they are but they're actually thinking about something they want to say, or their minds are just wandering. Or they're looking at that little box people hold in their hands these days. And people get discouraged, so they quit trying. And the very quiet people, you may have noticed, are often the sad people.

NO IT'S NO ONE'S FAULT Back then, what I really resented was my own powerless self. my tiny little self. and my tiny little heart. too small to hold all that emotion, so it had to shift the blame onto someone else. but now I'm grown. I'VE COME FOR YOU. I'LL HOLD IT ALL. Kuki Urie

No man's advice can change you unless you speak to yourself. Bible school or seminars can't change you, going to church can't change you except you decide to change. Psalm 139:23 - 24

no matter how big his smile or how loud his laugh, you could hear the hurt underneath.

No matter how much he talked, she never answered him, but he knew she was still there. He knew it was like the soldiers he had read about. They would have an arm or a leg blown off, and for days, even weeks after it happened, they could still feel the arm itching, the leg itching, the mother calling.

-No me insultes -dijo, deslizando el marco hacia ella-. ¿Sabes siquiera que es el amor? ¿Puedes sentir algo o solo estas... programada?

No more crying. Tears only cause destructive floods. When you are sad, you build a boat.

No need to look to see if your former home has vanished yet into the humdrum gray behind you; you'll be able to feel it, the sudden eclipse of the tractor beam the house puts out. Of its forcefield of sadness.

Non ero triste per qualcosa in particolare, piangevo per tante cose insieme.

No obstante, lo que al final acabó por definir la filosofía vital del muchacho fue algo que dijo su madre a raíz de la muerte del padre. Sin duda, tardó un tiempo en sedimentarse en el alma del chico, pero, cuando lo hizo, allí se quedó: "Las cosas son como son y así seguirán siendo".

No one can please a man who is not at peace with himself.

No one can sad listening to Frankie Valli.

No one else, but the silence of the night cried with me

No one is adequate to comprehending the misery of my lot! Fate obliges me to be constantly in movement: I am not permitted to pass more than a fortnight in the same place. I have no Friend in the world, and from the restlessness of my destiny I never can acquire one. Fain would I lay down my miserable life, for I envy those who enjoy the quiet of the Grave: But Death eludes me, and flies from my embrace. In vain do I throw myself in the way of danger. I plunge into the Ocean; The Waves throw me back with abhorrence upon the shore: I rush into fire; The flames recoil at my approach: I oppose myself to the fury of Banditti; Their swords become blunted, and break against my breast: The hungry Tiger shudders at my approach, and the Alligator flies from a Monster more horrible than itself. God has set his seal upon me, and all his Creatures respect this fatal mark!

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!

No one really wants you, they only want the idea of you.

No one was normal, not really.

No sadness, my soul’s no more of this world.

No satan can unsettle what God has settled.

No sé si soy una persona triste con vocación de alegre, o viceversa, o al revés. Lo que sí sé es que siempre hay algo de tristeza en mis momentos más felices, al igual que siempre hay un poco de alegría en mis peores días.

Nostalgia is the only acceptable form of sadness.

No storm can darken a strong heart full of joy and love.

Not all scars show, not all wounds heal. Often we don't see, the pain someone feels. A broken heart is like having broken ribs. No one can see but hurts everytime you breathe.

No tears come, only memories. Memories and regrets.

No teas come, only memories. Memories and regrets.

No, the sadness will soften, its edges will become less rough. In time missing him will be the way you love him.

Nothing cuts like a scar. It suddenly comes with beautiful memories and then poisons our mind with sadness.

Nothing in my life has ever felt so good yet it hurt so achingly bad.

Nothing is forever, he thought beyond closed eyelids somewhere over Asia Minor. Maybe unhappiness is the continuum through which a human life moves, and joy just a series of blips, of islands in the stream. Or if not unhappiness, then at least melancholy.

Nothing is more painful than the loneliness of being with someone who is never completely there.

No truth can cure the sadness we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no strength, no kindness, can cure that sorrow. All we can do is see that sadness through to the end and learn something from it, but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sadness that comes to us without warning.

Not that easy to have tears in your heart but a smile on your lips.

Not until we are faced with a crisis or sadness do we begin to remember that if we only laughed a bit more, loved a lot more, and felt the simplicity of loving ourselves-just a little more…this day would be the greatest day ever!

No use in fearing the monsters under your bed when you've become them.

Not the sadness, but the happiness, is the ultimate purpose of life.

Obsessive love wears down both its target and the obsessor.

...not to look back or feel sad about things, that home is wherever I am.

... Now I'll close my eyes with all my strength and fly away singing my baby girl's favorite song.

Now, as they pressured perfect footprints into the snow that had been accumulating all day, his father took Harry's hand. "Heshele, how are you?" "OK, I guess." "Are you very sad?" "I don't know. I know I should be. But what does it mean to be sad?" His father stopped. He cupped his free hand to let the snow gather. It quickly turned from an inviting white coating to black-specked gray water. "Sadness is in my hand. In a second, a thing of beauty becomes dirty water; innocence leaves a child's eyes; he who strived for immortality lies forgotten under weeds. Sad is missing the love that death has sealed in the ground or that life has denied life to." "Then I'm sad. When you took my hand, I remembered how he took my hand when we went to the pier to fish. And I thought: That will never happen again. And then I thought: Up until now I never understood the word never, and there was a lump in my throat.

Of course I looked sad. But I didn’t really feel sad. Or it wasn’t a sadness that hurt, not an all-through one. I rather enjoyed it. Beastly, but I did. I sang on the way home. The romance, the mystery of it. Living.

Of course many things vanish from this world without a moment's warning - prosperity, sanity, umbrellas, love - but not sorrow, never sorrow: sorrow always wears thin its welcome.

Oh I'll die I'll die I'll die My skin is in blazing furore I do not know what I'll do where I'll go oh I am sick I'll kick all Arts in the butt and go away Shubha Shubha let me go and live in your cloaked melon In the unfastened shadow of dark destroyed saffron curtain The last anchor is leaving me after I got the other anchors lifted I can't resist anymore, a million glass panes are breaking in my cortex I know, Shubha, spread out your matrix, give me peace Each vein is carrying a stream of tears up to the heart Brain's contagious flints are decomposing out of eternal sickness other why didn't you give me birth in the form of a skeleton I'd have gone two billion light years and kissed God's ass But nothing pleases me nothing sounds well I feel nauseated with more than a single kiss I've forgotten women during copulation and returned to the Muse In to the sun-coloured bladder I do not know what these happenings are but they are occurring within me I'll destroy and shatter everything draw and elevate Shubha in to my hunger Shubha will have to be given Oh Malay Kolkata seems to be a procession of wet and slippery organs today But i do not know what I'll do now with my own self My power of recollection is withering away Let me ascend alone toward death I haven't had to learn copulation and dying I haven't had to learn the responsibility of shedding the last drops after urination Haven't had to learn to go and lie beside Shubha in the darkness Have not had to learn the usage of French leather while lying on Nandita's bosom Though I wanted the healthy spirit of Aleya's fresh China-rose matrix Yet I submitted to the refuge of my brain's cataclysm I am failing to understand why I still want to live I am thinking of my debauched Sabarna-Choudhury ancestors I'll have to do something different and new Let me sleep for the last time on a bed soft as the skin of Shubha's bosom I remember now the sharp-edged radiance of the moment I was born I want to see my own death before passing away The world had nothing to do with Malay Roychoudhury Shubha let me sleep for a few moments in your violent silvery uterus Give me peace, Shubha, let me have peace Let my sin-driven skeleton be washed anew in your seasonal bloodstream Let me create myself in your womb with my own sperm Would I have been like this if I had different parents? Was Malay alias me possible from an absolutely different sperm? Would I have been Malay in the womb of other women of my father? Would I have made a professional gentleman of me like my dead brother without Shubha? Oh, answer, let somebody answer these Shubha, ah Shubha Let me see the earth through your cellophane hymen Come back on the green mattress again As cathode rays are sucked up with the warmth of a magnet's brilliance I remember the letter of the final decision of 1956 The surroundings of your clitoris were being embellished with coon at that time Fine rib-smashing roots were descending in to your bosom Stupid relationship inflated in the bypass of senseless neglect Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah I do not know whether I am going to die Squandering was roaring within heart's exhaustive impatience I'll disrupt and destroy I'll split all in to pieces for the sake of Art There isn't any other way out for Poetry except suicide Shubha Let me enter in to the immemorial incontinence of your labia majora In to the absurdity of woeless effort In the golden chlorophyll of the drunken heart Why wasn't I lost in my mother's urethra? Why wasn't I driven away in my father's urine after his self-coition? Why wasn't I mixed in the ovum -flux or in the phlegm? With her eyes shut supine beneath me I felt terribly distressed when I saw comfort seize S

Oh, God,” Wilhelm prayed, “Let me out of my trouble. Let me out of my thoughts, and let me do something better with myself. For all the time I have wasted I am very sorry. Let me out of this clutch and into a different life. For I am all balled up. Have mercy.

Oh, Lady," said the woodcutter, "my hurt is overwhelming because it is someone else's pain that makes me cry.

Oh, Mercédès, I have spoken your name with sighs of melancholy, with groans of pain and with the croak of despair. I have spoken it frozen with cold, huddled on the straw of my dungeon. I have spoken it raging with heat and rolling around on the stone floor of my prison. Mercédès, I must have my revenge, because for fourteen years I suffered, fourteen years I wept and cursed. Now, I say to you, Mercédès, I must have my revenge!

Oh pillow, please continue to kiss my cheek round. I'll let you listen to my dreams to see the girl you'll never meet.

Olga was nice, Olga was nice and loving, Olga loved him, he repeated to himself with a growing sadness as he also realised that nothing would ever happen between them again, life sometimes offers you a chance he thought, but when you are too cowardly or too indecisive to seize it life takes the cards away; there is a moment for doing things and entering a possible happiness, and this moment lasts a few days, a few weeks or even a few months, but it only happens once and one time only, and if you want to return to it later it's quite simply impossible. There's no more place for enthusiasm, belief and faith, and there remains just gentle resignation, a sad and reciprocal pity, the useless but correct sensation that something could have happened, that you just simply showed yourself unworthy of this gift you had been offered.

Oft gay and honoured robes those tortures try: We think caged birds sing, when indeed they cry.

O harsh surrounding cloud that will not free my soul.

Oh, I wish I’d come over here once in a while! That was a crime! That was a crime! Who’s going to punish that?