Best 1677 quotes in «tears quotes» category

Your skin upon my skin, in the beating of our hearts, may the living let us in, before the dead tear us apart.

Your stockings prove your virtues. Be certain they are clean and free of tears.

You see my tears, in the rain underneath it all, we're just the same.

You should hurry up and acquire the cigar habit. It's one of the major happinesses. And so much more lasting than love, so much less costly in emotional wear and tear.

Youth is harmed by having wisdom thrust upon it. Youth must gather wisdom slowly, in laughter and tears.

You've been cold to me so long, I'm crying icicles instead of tears.

You've got to think of the fine times you had with your mate, not the moment of his perishin'. Every tear you shed now only wets his windin' sheet and disturbs his rest

You who weep for pleasures fled, While dragging on a life of care, All your woes will melt in air, If to god your tears are shed, You who Weap!

A beadlet dribbles down her cheek to wake a wet remembrance where the insincere took hold to empty forth her wounded heart.

A false love, begins with the eye and soon spills from the eye in pain. Where a true love, begins with the eye, and settles in the heart.

A drop of sense can save you an ocean of tears.

After this I don’t think I will ever love again Perhaps it is the only way to be saved

After she had cried, she felt at once hollow and… better, as if the salt of all her unshed tears had been poisoning her, and now she was cleansed.

After or before any happiness, someone must cry.

Aí parei de chorar, chorava de ódio e o choro de ódio é estimulante, as minhas melhores ideias nasceram do ódio.

A JEWELRY STORE NAMED INDIA If you hold this Dazzling emerald Up to the sky, It will shine a billion Beautiful miracles Painted from the tears Of the Most High. Plucked from the lush gardens Of a yellowish-green paradise, Look inside this hypnotic gem And a kaleidoscope of Titillating, Soul-raising Sights and colors Will tease and seduce Your eyes and mind. Tell me, sir. Have you ever heard A peacock sing? Hold your ear To this mystical stone And you will hear Sacred hymns flowing To the vibrations Of the perfumed Wind.

aku tak dapat memulai, saat ada sesuatu yang belum berakhir

All right, all right," he said, with that gesture I'd come to hate: two open palms facing me and patting the air, as if pushing me away, pushing me down, pushing any tears I might be preparing to cry back into their ducts.

All my trapped tears are in there like poison, but I can't let them out.

Alone, all alone in the world, sad and small like a nightingale serenading the infinite. How could a love so tender and sweet become the cross of my pain? No, no, I can't conceive I won't receive your precious lips again. My eyes are tired of weeping, my heart of beating. If perhaps some crystal moment before dawn or twilight you remember me, bring only a bouquet of tears to lay upon my thirsty grave.

All the tears in the world can't bring back the dead or wash away your fears and grief. I want you to put up your chin and tell yourself you are strong. And if you begin to weaken, hold on to me. That's what I am here for.

And now, for something completely the same: Wasted time and wasted breath, 's what I'll make, until my death. Helping people 'd be as good, but I wouldn't, if I could. For the few that help deserve, have no need, or not the nerve, help from strangers to accept, plus from mine a few have wept. Wept from joy, or from despair, or just from my vengeful stare. Ways I have, to look at stupid, make them see I am not Cupid. Make them see they are in error, for of truth I am a bearer. Most decide I'm just a bear, mauling at them, - like I care.

A million tears fall from my eyes; I can't continue with this life; I don't know why I fall in love If love is only meant to hurt me

Amy! Never underestimate the rare tears of man..because that's always a sign that he has lost hope,out of options and more dangerously has nothing to lose...

And perhaps some will never understand, It is mostly the farewells that unite us, and last in our memory forever, Even more than the first meeting.

And the rain drops kept falling like the sweetest music leaving tears on the glass, which is what music does to me most of the time but silence too. and rain.

A man need not be ashamed of moist eyes when he gazes on the face of some loved one who is far away. It's human. It shows a kindly heart, an impressionable mind! ("The Doomed Man")

And because he could do nothing about it, Tern’s anger suffocated him. It made more tears.

And of course I started to cry. Not for myself strangely enough, though I am sure I could have, with capital and interest, but no, not for myself. For my mother? Who can really itemise the cause of our human tears?

And our tears are an expression of that which we cannot express. Tears are perfect prayer.

And the poor lady, so small in her black satin, shrivelled up and sallow, with her funny corkscrew curls, took the little boy on her lap and put her arms around him and wept as though her heart would break. But her tears were partly tears of happiness, for she felt that the strangeness between them was gone. She loved him now with a new love because he had made her suffer.

And yet here he was, looking at Jem Carstairs, a boy so fragile-looking that he appeared to be made out of glass, with the hardness of his expression slowly dissolving into tentative uncertainty. "You are not really dying," he said, the oddest tone to his voice, "are you?" Jem nodded. "So they tell me." "I am sorry," Will said. "No", Jem said softly. He drew his jacket aside and took a knife from the belt at his waist. "Don't be ordinary like that. Don't say you're sorry. Say you'll train with me." He held the knife to Will, hilt first. Charlotte held her breath, afraid to move. She felt as if she were watching something very important happen, though she could not have said what. Will reached out and took the knife, his eyes never leaving Jem's face. His fingers brushed the other boy's as he took the weapon from him. It was the first time, Charlotte thought that she had ever seen him touch any other person willingly. "I'll train with you," he said.

Anger and tears create the space for the work of the Spirit. They are the groaning of the Spirit for renewal or creation and an expression of compassion thus revealing a deep spiritual well. To fear our tears or to suppress our anger is to block the power of the spirit springing forth from within our spiritual wells to resist death and to sustain and renew life.

As far as he could discover, there were no signs of spring. The decay that covered the surface of the mottled ground was not the kind in which life generates. Last year, he remembered, May had failed to quicken these soiled fields. It had taken all the brutality of July to torture a few green spikes through the exhausted dirt. What the little park needed, even more than he did, was a drink. Neither alcohol nor rain would do. Tomorrow, in his column, he would ask Broken-hearted, Sick-of-it-all, Desperate, Disillusioned-with-tubercular-husband and the rest of his correspondents to come here and water the soil with their tears. Flowers would then spring up, flowers that smelled of feet. "Ah, humanity..." But he was heavy with shadow and the joke went into a dying fall. He trist to break its fall by laughing at himself.

As to the other three, if they had been perfection they would not have been real girls, and you could not have wept over their trials and laughed over their pleasures.

A single tear forms, just in the corner of one eye, but it doesn't roll down my cheek; it merely crystallizes in the cold air, it grows and grows into a second giant globe that doesn't want to orbit with the world—it breaks off from the planet and plunges into infinity.

A smile is a song from the heart; a tear is a letter from the soul.

A storm is an artist who passes by on her way to paint your rainbow.

A Tear drop upon your sould will bloom as the rose that is hidden deep within your soul" rdp

A tear cringed off his cheek and stained her writing on the paper. He didn’t wipe it, men must be honest and transparent, they should never wipe their tears.

A thousand years of tears can only be voluntarily avoided,

At least the tears on my desk wipe away the dust that's covered this place

At night, with only the bedside lamp on, I would pretend to sleep and listened to Dad’s muffled crying in the semi-darkness, wishing that I could cry like him, that I could bring Stevan back from the dead by the strength of my tears. But they were regular tears carving the same slicing-hot trails down my cheeks, and in the end, I could not summon a distinct kind of grief for Stevan. Just the same grief that has gripped mankind for centuries, which time would inevitably ebb into a notch in one’s skin or a small limp in the way one walks or a bottled memory that would only resurface some nights. And soon, you’d struggle to remember how that person talked or how that person used to occupy a customized space in your life. And you don’t want to forget, but you don’t want to remember either, and there seemed to be no place where you could just exist.

A true friend sees your tears of sadness, And quickly turns them into tears of joy and laughter, Forming a rainbow.

Because I want to know if I'm allowed to kiss your tears away. Because I want to be able to hold your hand. Because I like you.

Because in our pain we must find each other – mirror to mirror the grace of our shared humanity, the stunningly broken beauty of our shared grief. And you can let your grief see my grief and let our tears mingle into some kind of healing alchemy, and you’ll know what i know. That we are never alone. I promise. You and me? We are never, ever alone.

Aura," he whispered, "I wish I could wipe away just one of your tears. Then I'd feel like a person again. Like I'm something more than a bunch of light.

A writer draws a road map where readers walks with their love, joy, anger, tears, and dismay. Every story, every poem, has different meanings for every reader.

[B]eauty is one of the things that make you cry and so maybe beauty is always tied up in tears.

before picking up the spilled diamonds, she locked the door and embraced him, weeping — the touch of her skin and silk was all the magic of life, but why does everybody greet me with tears?