Best 1832 quotes in «sad quotes» category

I only felt the pain The things the you inflicted on me

I PAINT MY FACE. By Omrane Khuder. Mirror, distorted; I sit, paint my Face, Toxic white Make-up buries my Scars, My Eyes tell lies; Dumbfounded Confidence hides the Disgrace. Place the tragic Vehicle called My Life in to Drive, Sad pathetic Clown; Late for the suppression show, Despair another time; Let the chuckles and defeat derive. I paint my Heart; I hide my True. I paint my Soul; I keep it from You. I paint, I cannot accept; To ignore you the way you ignore Me? I paint my scarred and pitiful Face; No Will left to restore Me. I paint my Face; it’s all I know to do. My painted Face shatters the Mirror, yet still all I see is You.

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.

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?

I pictured her tragically; it never once ocurred to me to picture her as the tragedy.

I realized I loved him after everything went wrong so I wallowed in self-pity and prayed I could wake up.

I realized that I was on a sticky wicket that just received another bout of acid rain.

I really miss you and I still have that one picture of you, where your eyes had no point of view, but pictures say nothing and this one will stay in my minds room.

I really can't handle talking about this for too long because it hurts too much, but I want to say that there is one thing I've learned about people they don't get that mean and nasty overnight. It's not human nature. If you give people enough time, eventually they'll do the most heartbreaking stuff in the world.

I realized that whilst crying over the loss, the living did not seem adequate because they were not my loved one. The room full of strangers hurt me profusely. Even as I saw thousands of young people; I felt incomplete and more saddened because the one I wanted to see was buried.

I remember the stink of corruption. It had a kind of sweetness to it, a sweetness that'd make you want to hurl.

I replayed the words that would forever haunt me. As would Adrian's unfinished sentence: 'So, for instance, if Tony . . .' I knew I couldn't change, or mend, anything now.

I said I was "just tired", but I never told you what I was tired of.

I sat up and wiped my eyes, cursing the damned faeries and their eternal war. It seemed there was never enough time. Time to dance, or talk, or laugh, or even mourn the passing of a friend. Slipping off my corsage, I laid it on Ironhorse’s cold metal shoulder, wanting him to have something natural and beautiful in this lifeless place.Goodbye, Ironhorse.

I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Juryman, the Judge, long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the destruction of the old, perishing by this retributive instrument, before it shall cease out of its present use. I see a beautiful city and brilliant people rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long long years to come, I see the evil of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually making explanation for itself and wearing it out. ” ― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities tags: charles-dickens 18 likes Like Charles Dickens “They said of him, about the city that night, that it was the peacefullest man's face ever beheld there. Many added that he looked sublime and prophetic. One of the most remarkable sufferers by the same axe---a woman---had asked at the foot of the same scaffold, not long before, to be allowed to write down the thoughts that were inspiring her. If he had given an utterance to his, and they were prophetic, they would have been these: "I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Juryman, the Judge, long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the destruction of the old, perishing by this retributive instrument, before it shall cease out of its present use. I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long years to come, I see the evil of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually making expiation for itself and wearing out. "I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy, in that England which I shall see no more. I see Her with a child upon her bosom, who bears my name. I see her father, aged and bent, but otherwise restored, and faithful to all men in his healing office, and at peace. I see the good old man, so long their friend, in ten years' time enriching them with all he has, and passing tranquilly to his reward. "I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. I see her, an old woman weeping for me on the anniversary of this day. I see her and her husband, their course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and I know that each was not more honoured and held sacred in the other's soul, than I was in the souls of both. "I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a man winning his way up in that path of life which once was mine. I see him winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by the light of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded away. I see him, foremost of just judges and honoured men, brining a boy of my name, with a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place---then fair to look upon, with not a trace of this day's disfigurement---and I hear him tell the child my story, with a tender and faltering voice. "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.

I see capital through the flurry On this Monday night twenty-first. Some do-nothing has made up the story That love exists on the earth. And from laziness or from boredom All believed, and thus they live: Wait for meeting, fear the parting, And sing songs of love. But to others opens a secret And upon them descends a still. I by accident came upon this And since then am as if I'm ill.

I search for love frantically... and quitting at the last moment by making excuse for myself that I've tried

I scrub my skin to rid me from you and I still don’t know why I cried. It was just something in the way you took my heart and rearranged my insides and I couldn’t recognise the emptiness you left me with when you were done. Maybe you thought my insides would fit better this way, look better this way, to you and us and all the rest. But then you must have changed your mind or made a wrong because why did you leave?

I set down in a chair by the window and tried to think of something cheerful, but it warn't no use. I felt so lonesome I most wished I was dead.

I see you in every passing moment.

I should have felt something—a pang of sadness, a twinge of nostalgia. I did feel a peculiar sensation, like oceanic despair that—if I were in a movie—would be depicted superficially as me shaking my head slowly and shedding a tear. Zoom in on my sad, pretty, orphan face. Smash cut to a montage of my life's most meaningful moments: my first steps; Dad pushing me on a swing at sunset; Mom bathing me in the tub; grainy, swirling home video of my sixth birthday in the backyard garden, me blindfolded and twirling to pin the tail on the donkey. But the nostalgia didn't hit. These weren't my memories. I just felt a tingling in my hands, an eerie tingle, like when you nearly drop something precious off a balcony, but don't. My heart bumped up a little. I could drop it, I told myself—the house, this feeling. I had nothing left to lose.

I should have seen it coming.” The words don’t surprise me, but they piss me off. I pull away and glare down at her. “Don’t you fucking dare, Nell Hawthorne. Don’t you dare put this on yourself. You should never have to see shit like this coming.” She backs away, stunned and afraid by the intensity I know is radiating off me. “Colton, I just meant he’s always shown—” “Stop. Just stop right there. Granted, you should’ve never gotten involved with a douchetard like him, but that’s no excuse for what he did.

I sleep through the next day. Each time I go to the bathroom, I try not to look in the mirror. Once, I catch my reflection: it looks like I’ve been punched in both eyes. I can’t talk about the day that follows that.

Isn't it always the things that you can't see that hurt you?

Isn’t so scary that the person you used to daydream about is the same one who left you with so many nightmares?!

Isolation, for him, had become a basic sine qua non for existence and loneliness, his sole companion like a perfectly faithful twin. He was someone for whom even happiness would cry for, mourning the death of his sentiments and murdering the existence of his soul.

I spend my nights thinking the worst And telling myself that everything's going to work out I keep kicking myself in the mouth Opening up every cut that should be a scar by now

I stare past her at the inspirational kitten posters. There's one of a soaking-wet kitten climbing out of a toilet with the caption "it could be worse!" "Just tell me whatever it is you're thinking," Mrs. Paulsen says. "Whatever is going through your mind right now." "I hope they didn't actually drop a cat in the toilet to get that picture," I choke out. "...Pardon?" "Nothing. Sorry.

Is the love you have for me, and the feelings I have for you forever parallel, with no chance of intersecting?

I stood in your doorway this morning dreaming you’d turn around you’d tilt your head you’d softly whisper ”stay” or that you’d grab my arms to shake me while asking what the hell are we doing we love each other and this is not right so we will make this work now stay! You poured your coffee. Stirred the spoon like a crystal man with your back to me and not a sound. the fridge humming elegies while the clock ticked on and the streets are so clean here people rushing to work and maybe I should be too by now at this age this stage this town. I will stand in that doorway dreaming for many nights to come.

I still think of you every day. But I’m trying not to let it hurt me with the same intensity that it used to.

I sunk to my knees in the spot he had left me. I felt a part of me had just been lost. I was fraught with so many emotions, confused by them all; however, I was hurt more than anything. Hurt to hear him call himself a monster. A monster? Of all the things I thought he was, a monster was not one of them.

It didn’t hurt me. Not “hurt”. Hurt is a four letter word. It’s short, almost cute sounding. Aawwww, did that hurt? No. It didn’t hurt. Destroyed, Obliterated, Desecrated, Annihilated, Demolished, Shattered, or Demoralised maybe… But no. It didn’t hurt me. It didn’t “hurt” me at all.

It doesn't need to be happy so to be interesting, there are outside sad stories which are also interesting... if you know what's about overall..., know the ending... don't you want to understand why??? By going deeper and deeper!?

It always starts out that way," Kanin said, and his voice was distant, as if remembering. "Noble intentions, honor among new vampires. Vows to not harm humans, to take only what is needed, to not hunt them like sheep through the night.

It could be yesterday when I was less in love I think For I didn’t see you in the mirror behind me while getting dressed. The way your hands couldn’t stay away and our bodies always found their ways back to each other as if they were meant to be together Close. But then it was today and I saw you again in the mirror behind me while getting dressed So I go to sleep tonight alone without actually falling asleep because I’m scared of the moment I will wake up and realise it was just a dream You’re actually gone. Now all I can do is get through to another tomorrow hoping that I will be less in love again Like yesterday But not today. I was never really well with things at all.

It doesn't matter where I go, I don't want to be there. And then I get to the next place, and I don't want to be there either.

It doesn’t matter whether you are looking for a reason to be happy or sad, you will always find it.

It had occurred, it had happened, and could never in his life be unhappened, never removed, a huge deadly black scar lasting forever.

It had happened. I had brought the dream out into reality and it had dissolved. It was just a dream and had found no purchase in the real world where it was dependent on other people for its realization. I wished that I could have sucked my words back inside where they had lived a colorful life of promise, had been nurtured by hope, and had never been tested

It has to do with me because it has to do with you," Young says, his voice dropping. "Jaewon-ah, we've been friends longer than we've been--." "Enemies?" I suggest weakly. "Than we've been lost.

the path your life is stuck on and be free It's a dark whisper calling to me. But I'm not brave enough to listen. I'm old enough to know I don't have any special talents. So no matter how depressing... I have to suck it up... And live the life I have.

I think if we stop running towards broken arms, we’d all be just fine.

I think I hate the concept of needing space. What is really means is that the person's mad at you, or hates you, or doesn't give a shit about you. They just don't want to admit it.

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.

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!

I thought about my death. It was not just a matter of stopping. It would be a parting from all there was in this world, even a parting from myself. And this would still be true no matter how much I loved something. This is what made death so terribly sad.

I think you are having a different sort of heartbreak. Maybe a kind of heartbreak of being in the world when you don't know how to be.

I thought about us being kids, not having anything but each other. I thought about the dreams we shared, and how I was so ready to spend the rest of my life with you. You helped shaping me into the man I was becoming, and this was a representation of my love and appreciation for you.

It hurts that I was just one page in the book of your life… But what hurts more is knowing you’ll revise that chapter someday…. ….. and you’ll erase me completely.