Best 1677 quotes in «tears quotes» category

Whimsy is the answer to tears.

WHO AM I? I have seven heavenly panels Leading up to a pointed sphere I’m multidimensional like a crystal And my center is never clear. I’m an inventor and pioneer. A mentor to my peers. But I'm not as sound as my shell reveals, Because I’m tormented by my fears - That may appear to be grounded But my insides are filled with tears. And the sadness is well-founded, From years and years Of traumatic experiences Compounded In the most demented Atmospheres. I talk but feel like nobody hears. Has reason disappeared? And, God, are you near? This is Giza’s 7th light force And I'm asking you to interfere. I can no longer walk amongst the blind and dead With open eyes and ears. I’m trying to maintain my sanity And to straighten up my veneer As I roll amongst the growing calamities Flowing on Earth’s severely trashed Frontier. Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun (2010)

Why do I still cry bitterly? Though I know, You will never be mine? Though I know, You will never come back? You gave me the pain, That has no remedy! And maybe, Only death can cure The sorrows of my life!

With my lost saints - I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life! - and if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

Without the wetness of your love, The fragrance of your water, Or the trickling sounds of Your voice, I shall always feel thirsty.

Without toil, would there be any tears?

Witnessing a selfless act brings tears to remind us how we should be treating others.

With the minivan in the air, rolling counterclockwise, the engine racing, Laurie screaming -- a fraction of a second, that's all -- Jacob would have thought of me -- who had held him, my own baby, looked down into his eyes -- and he would have understood I loved him, no matter what, to the very end -- as he saw the concrete wall flying forward to meet him.

wounds make you awake in the memories but tears makes tough and dry in real life.

Write me a sad story. I'll treasure it within my tears forever.

Writing is Like waking on Water, Seems not possible at all, But Only person Understand Who Feel the Walking Sound of Tears while felling from Eyes

Yesterday it was sun outside. The sky was blue and people were lying under blooming cherry trees in the park. It was Friday, so records were released, that people have been working on for years. Friends around me find success and level up, do fancy photo shoots and get featured on big, white, movie screens. There were parties and lovers, hand in hand, laughing perfectly loud, but I walked numbly through the park, round and round, 40 times for 4 hours just wanting to make it through the day. There's a weight that inhabits my chest some times. Like a lock in my throat, making it hard to breathe. A little less air got through and the sky was so blue I couldn’t look at it because it made me sad, swelling tears in my eyes and they dripped quietly on the floor as I got on with my day. I tried to keep my focus, ticked off the to-do list, did my chores. Packed orders, wrote emails, paid bills and rewrote stories, but the panic kept growing, exploding in my chest. Tears falling on the desk tick tick tick me not making a sound and some days I just don't know what to do. Where to go or who to see and I try to be gentle, soft and kind, but anxiety eats you up and I just want to be fine. This is not beautiful. This is not useful. You can not do anything with it and it tries to control you, throw you off your balance and lovely ways but you can not let it. I cleaned up. Took myself for a walk. Tried to keep my eyes on the sky. Stayed away from the alcohol, stayed away from the destructive tools we learn to use. the smoking and the starving, the running, the madness, thinking it will help but it only feeds the fire and I don't want to hurt myself anymore. I made it through and today I woke up, lighter and proud because I'm still here. There are flowers growing outside my window. The coffee is warm, the air is pure. In a few hours I'll be on a train on my way to sing for people who invited me to come, to sing, for them. My own songs, that I created. Me—little me. From nowhere at all. And I have people around that I like and can laugh with, and it's spring again. It will always be spring again. And there will always be a new day.

You battled monsters. You sweat and cried your way to this one prolific moment where you finally realize that those dark days and sleepless nights were pre-requisites to your becoming.

Yesterday, she shed tears, keeping her head on my shoulders. And I think she's not going to be fine because I know she won't. Because a couple of years back, I wasn't. And when you know that you've fallen hard on a cold ground and are still lying there, what do you tell others who are taking the fall? You close your eyes. You accept to lie there a little longer. But I lie on my bed now, and it's a little too warm today.

...you betrayed me, but after all those years I discover, my tears have wiped the slate clean...

You can embark on new and steeper versions of your old sin, you know, and cry tears doing it that are genuine as any.

You cannot carry your past without dropping your future.

You can never see my tears behind my anger and smile. The only thing you can see is my respect for you, because you deserve for it....

You couldn’t tell I was crying because my eyes were closed.

You can't burn out the pain if you allow the tears to stay.

You don’t have to wait for a storm to pass to paint your own rainbow.

You make it sound so terrible. There’s nothing wrong with crying. Tears are healing. They help you drain out the sorrow and anguish, so you can start filling yourself with more positive emotions, when you’re ready.

You have no idea, my friend, of the effect of a young woman's tears on all these weak and timid souls.

You learn more from your tears than your smiles.

You may cry out tears for misplacing your money, but you got to cry out blood if you have misplaced your dreams. Sadly, you may not even know the great deal of influence you loss when you misplace your dreams, so how will you cry for such a loss?

You okay?” It’s a residential street, but it’s not the street of the party. I shake my head no. “Are you going to be okay?” he asks. I lean back, resting my head against the seat, and close my eyes. “I miss her.

You must really love this guy, huh? I mean, to be crying as ugly as you are?

You quit? I thought you said it was too dangerous to quit, Alex. You said people who try to get out die." "I almost did. If it weren't for Gary Frankel, I probably wouldn't have made it. . . ." "Gary Frankel?" The nicest, geekiest guy in school? For the first time I scan Alex's face and see a faint, new scar above his eye and nasty ones by his ear and neck. "Oh, God! W-what did they d-do to you?" He takes my hand and places it on his chest. His eyes are intense and dark, like they were the first time I noticed him in the parking lot that first day of school senior year. "It took me a long time to realize I needed to fix everything The choices I made. The gang. Bein' beaten to within an inch of my life and branded like cattle was nothin' compared to losin' you. If I could take back every word I said in the hospital, I would. I thought if I pushed you away, I'd be protectin' you from what happened to Paco and my dad." He looks up and his eyes pierce mine. "I'll never push you away again, Brittany. Ever. I swear." Beaten? Branded? I'm feeling sick to my stomach and tears sting my eyes. "Shh." He puts his arms around me, rubbing his hands across my back. "It's all right. I'm okay," he chants over and over again, his voice catching.

You obey orders, because if you do not, you cannot expect the same from your men. You are part of the wolf, not the whole wolf. I would have thought you had learned that when you were a boy, but it is not the case. A wolf cannot have more than one head, General, or it tears itself apart.

Your deepest scars tell the world of your greatest triumphs.

You're back where you swore yourself you wouldn't be The familiar shackles you can't tell from your own skin Your head's under water when you learned to swim On a road to hell, congratulations, you're free...

You tell anyone I cried, I'll find a dead fish, put it in a sock, hide it in your room, and let it putrefy." "Fair enough.

You're letting me go?" He curled his upper lip, his expression painfully bitter as he took a step back from me. "Apparently... I never had a hold of you." He turned sharply, and without another word striding down the street into the dark. Braden never once looked back and that was a good thing. If he had, he'd have seen Jocelyn Butler crying real tears for the first time in a long time, and he would have known that I'd lied. And lied big. For anyone who saw me, knew they were watching a heart in the process of it breaking.

You're the brightest thing in the room," he said. He lifted his hand from my waist, and slowly, carefully brushed a stray lock of hair from my cheek. "You shine.

Your tears do not wash away your sorrows. They feed someone else's joy. And that is why you must learn to swallow your own tears.

You touched my heart...ever so softly and I realized tears had never been...merely salt and the rain Oh the Rain! had never been merely water.

You're gone and you left me. My heart has dissipated. The only thing I can feel is the blood rushing through my veins and the strings that hold my fragile heart together.

Your failure may put smiles on people’s faces while your success squeezes tears from their eyes. Don’t be deceived; it’s just a charm to entice you to fall in love with mediocrity!

Your infatuation will end in tears.

You said the words, and they altered the universe. By merely speaking you could create damage and pain, cause tears to fall, drive people away, make yourself feel better, make your life worse.

You think I’ll weep? No, I’ll not weep. Storm and tempest. I have full cause of weeping, but this heart Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, Or e’re I’ll weep.—O Fool, I shall go mad.

A city is like a family portrait - you don't tear it up if you don't like your uncle's nose.

A book that bores me to tears is a book that neglects character building and quality of prose.

Accept these grateful tears...For thee they flow, for thee... That ever felt another's woe.

adolescence is a sort of underworld we have to live through. Everything is in us, even vice and crime. At the same time we discover free will. I wonder that it doesn't tear us off our bases for good and all.

A continuing narrative throughout Australia's history that says it is better to build up than to tear down - this is the continuing mission of Labor.

Adulterers, in the first stages of the church, were excommunicated forever, and unqualified all their lives for bearing a part in Christian assemblies, notwithstanding they might seek it with tears, and all the appearances of the most unfeigned repentance.

Advertising is poison gas. It should bring tears to your eyes, unhinge your nervous system and knock you out.

Against the windows the storm comes dashing, Through tattered foliage the hail tears crashing, The blue lightning flashes, The rapid hail clashes... The thunder is rumbling And crashing and crumbling.

A good sister is one who won't be embarrassed when you burst into tears in public. A better one will hand you tissues until you stop. The best is the one who will go get you another latte to go with the ginormous chocolate orgy she's already laid in front of you.