Sadness Quotes — page 13

Words that weep and tears that speak.

When we reflect on the long and dense night in which France and all Europe have remained plunged by their governments and their priests, we must feel less surprise than grief at the bewilderment caused by the first burst of light that …

Sweet pliability of man’s spirit, that can at once surrender itself to illusions, which cheat expectation and sorrow of their weary moments!

The end to which good men's libraries finally come is a melancholy subject. Few things are so much loved by some, and despised and neglected by others, as books, and specially theological books.

Holy indignation is a proof that we should do the same thing ourselves, and easy tears are a certain sign of a hard heart.

Darkness and light divide the course of time, and oblivion shares with memory, a great part even of our living beings; we slightly remember our felicities, and the smartest strokes of affliction leave but short smart upon us. Sense …

the unwilling materialists of our day have generally been awkwardly intellectual and quite incapable of laughter.

Grief never mended no broken bones, and as good people’s wery scarce, what I says is, make the most on ’em.

The most melancholy of human reflections, perhaps, is that, on the whole, it is a question whether the, benevolence of mankind does most good or harm.

The man must have a rare recipe for melancholy, who can be dull in Fleet Street.

Though a crucified life or an agonized death, Though long, or quick and sharp, I am firmly wrought in the endless thread Of Destiny's woof and warp. And I do not shrink, though a wave of pain Sobs over me now and then,

Never give way to melancholy; resist it steadily, for the habit will encroach.

There is no suffering for him who has finished his journey, and abandoned grief, who has freed him self on all sides, and thrown off all fetters.

Well, there is sorrow in the world, but goodness too; and goodness that is not greenness, either, no more than sorrow is.

To the legion of the lost ones, to the cohort of the damned, To my brethren in their sorrow overseas, Sings a gentleman of England cleanly bred, machinely crammed, And a trooper of the Empress, if you please.

Hang sorrow! care'll kill a cat.

Who ne'er knew joy but friendship might divide, Or gave his father grief but when he died.

Labour without joy is base. Labour without sorrow is base. Sorrow without labour is base. Joy without labour is base.

It is a sad place, young man, for you to put your young life into. It is to me far more like a graveyard than like a camp for the living. Look at it! It is billowed all over with the graves of dead issues, of buried opinions, of exploded …

The theologian may indulge the pleasing task of describing Religion as she descended from Heaven, arrayed in her native purity. A more melancholy duty is imposed on the historian. He must discover the inevitable mixture of error and …

Wherever capitalism appears, in pursuit of its mission of exploitation, there will Socialism, fertilized by misery, watered by tears, and vitalized by agitation be also found, unfurling its class-struggle banner and proclaiming its mission …

Grief and disappointment give rise to anger, anger to envy, envy to malice, and malice to grief again, till the whole circle be completed.

It is very sad, but I'm afraid America is bound to forge ahead and nothing can restore the equality between us. If we had interfered in the Confederate War it was then possible for us to reduce the power of the United States to manageable …

’Tis impious in a good man to be sad