Best 1689 quotes in «sorrow quotes» category

When you die of sorrow it's as if you've broken all the bones in your body, bruised yourself all over, cracked your skull. That's sorrow.

Whoever, fleeing marriage and the sorrows that women cause, does not wish to wed comes to a deadly old age.

Whoever has loved once, knows all that life contains of sorrow and of joy.

Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate, Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours Weeping upon his bed has sate, He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.

Why does the rest of the world put up with the hypocrisy, the need to put a happy face on sorrow, the need to keep on keeping on?... I don't know the answer, I know only that I can't.

Why must love always be accompanied--sooner or later--by sorrow and pain? Why not? Because pure bliss is for pure idiots.

. . . why some men choose to fill their brief allotment of time engaging the impossible, others in the manufacture of sorrow.

With her Florentino Ariza learned what he had already experienced many times without realizing it: that one can be in love with several people at the same time, feel the same sorrow with each, and not betray any of them. Alone in the midst of the crowd on the pier, he said to himself in a flash of anger: 'My heart has more rooms than a whorehouse.

With strength to meet sorrow, and faith to endure

With no guilt and no shame, no sorrow or blame. Whatever it is, we are all the same.

With no matter what human being, taken individually, I always find reasons for concluding that sorrow and misfortune do not suit him; either because he seems too mediocre for anything so great, or, on the contrary, too precious to be destroyed.

With subtle and finely-wrought temperaments it is always so. Their strong passions must either bruise or bend. They either slay the man, or themselves die. Shallow sorrows and shallow loves live on. The loves and the sorrows that are great are destroyed by their own plenitude.

Women are so gentle, so affectionate, so true in sorrow, so untired and untiring! but the leaf withers not sooner, and tropic light fades not more abruptly.

Woman is superlative; the best leader in life, the best guide in happy days, the best consoler in sorrow.

Woman makes half the sorrows which she boasts the privilege to sooth. Woman consoles us, it is true, while we are young and handsome; when we are old and ugly, woman snubs and scolds us. On the whole, then, woman in this scale, the weed in that. Jupiter! Hang out thy balance, and weigh them both; and if thou give the preference to woman, all I can say is, the next time Juno ruffles thee, O Jupiter, try the weed.

Words are less needful to sorrow than to joy.

Work is the best antidote to sorrow, my dear Watson.

Words are most malignant, the most treacherous possession of mankind. They are saturated with the sorrows of all time.

Worry is discounting possible future sorrows so that the individual may have present misery.

Writing is a refuge from unhappiness, but has its own sorrows.

You can never be truly happy in a life unless you have known a sorrow. All terrible things we have gone through in life have created spaces inside us where happiness can live Not to mention love.

Yet I also suspected that what I was seeing was but a part of the truth and perhaps not even the most important part; beneath these faces, these clothes, accents, rudenesses, was power and sorrow, both unadmitted, unrealized, the power of inventors, the sorrow of the disconnected.

Yet there be certain times in a young man’s life, when, through great sorrow or sin, all the boy in him is burnt and seared away so that he passes at one step to the more sorrowful state of manhood

You can be sad for others but you don't have to take on their pain.

You can't postpone sorrow, so why would you postpone happiness?

You can try to take sorrow and make it into something enduring, meaningful and beautiful. I always feel guilty that this is my job, that I get to do this

Your first task is to see the sorrow in you and around you; your next, to long intensely for liberation. The very intensity of longing will guide you; you need no other guide.

You must reach inside yourselves where I live like a story, not old, not young laughing at my own sorrow, weeping pearls at weddings, wielding a torch to melt sand into something clear and bright.

You're buying years of work, toil in the sun; you're buying a sorrow that can't talk.

You don't really care about the trials of tomorrow, rather lay awake in a bed full of sorrow

Young people have many pleasures and many sorrows, because they only have themselves to think of, so every wish and every notion assume importance; every pleasure is tasted to the full, but also every sorrow, and many who find that their wishes cannot be fulfilled, immediately put an end to their lives.

Your joy can fill you only as deeply as your sorrow has carved you.

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

Accept the past as the past and realize that each new day you are a new person who doesn’t need to carry old baggage into the new day with you. It’s amazing how many people ruin the beauty of today with the sorrows of yesterday. Yesterday doesn’t exist anymore! For example, if ever I feel foolish or guilty about something I’ve done, I learn from it and attempt to do better the next time. Shame or guilt serves no one. Such feelings actually keep us down, often lowering the vibrations of those around us, as well. Living in the present moment is the recurring baptism of the soul, forever purifying every new day with a new you.

A cheerful music is a powerful light for the shadows of sorrow!

Affliction equips the suffering to empathize with others in anguish and not only does it strengthen them, it enables them to be consoling comforters in a world full of hurt.

You were a stranger to sorrow: therefore Fate has cursed you.

A baby'll always be tied to her mama's heart, she says real quiet, n I wonder how many babies is buried in Aunt Tempie's heart.

About time,” Brianna said. “Hey, sorry, we were kind of busy,” Quinn snapped. “And I didn’t exactly realize I was on a schedule.” “I don’t like what I have to do here,” Brianna said. She handed Quinn the note. He read it. Read it again. “Is this some kind of joke?” he demanded. “Albert’s dead,” Brianna said. “Murdered.” “What?” “He’s dead. Sam and Dekka are off in the wilderness somewhere. Edilio’s got the flu, he might die, a lot of kids have. A lot. And there are these, these monsters, these kind of bugs . . . no one knows what to call them . . . heading toward town.” Her face contorted in a mix of rage and sorrow and fear. She blurted, “And I can’t stop them!” Quinn stared at her. Then back at the note. He felt his contented little universe tilt and go sliding away. There were just two words on the paper: “Get Caine.

Accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields. And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.

A faint tear wet Meiko's eye, so slight a bit of moisture that it passed unseen by Yasuko. Yet all the anguish of which she never spoke was compressed into that single drop

A fool I was to sleep at noon, And wake when night is chilly Beneath the comfortless cold moon; A fool to pluck my rose too soon, A fool to snap my lily. My garden-plot I have not kept; Faded and all-forsaken, I weep as I have never wept: Oh it was summer when I slept, It's winter now I waken. Talk what you please of future spring And sun-warm'd sweet to-orrow: Stripp'd bare of hope and everything, No more to laugh, no more to sing, I sit alone with sorrow.

A friend of mine who is working on a memoir says, I hate the idea of writing as some kind of catharsis, because it seems like that can't possibly produce a good book. You cannot hope to console yourself for your grief by writing, warns Natalia Ginzburg. Turn then to Isak Dinesen, who believed that you could make any sorrow bearable by putting into into a story or telling a story about it.

Again and again, however we know the landscape of love and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names, and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others fall: again and again the two of us walk out together under the ancient trees, lie down again and again among the flowers, face to face with the sky.

A good mother does not live only for her children. She always has some bond with other mothers, no matter what class, nationality or race they may be. All mothers have the same joys, the same sorrows, the same anxieties. All mothers think first of their child and of children.

Ah, cruel fate, how swiftly joy and sorrow alternate!

A happy person is not without sorrow or grief. Happiness is the acceptance of pain, not the lack of it.

After your visits, I twisted my blinds shut every night. I locked out the stars and I never saw lightning again. Each night, I simply turned out the lights and went to bed.

A grief travels with us as far as we carry it.

A heart's wound heals quicker than a soul's scratch.