Sadness Quotes — page 20

O surely this morning all sorrow is hidden, All battle is hushed for this even at least; And no one this noontide may hunger, unbidden To the flowers and the singing and the joy of your feast Where silent ye sit midst the world's tale …

The Earth, say'st thou? The Human race? By Me created? Sad its lot? Nay: I have no remembrance of such place: Such world I fashioned not.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

With sick and famish'd eyes, With doubling knees and weary bones, To thee my cries, To thee my groans, To thee my sighs, my tears ascend: No end?My throat, my soul is hoarse;

Eyes are Vocal, Tears have Tongues, And there be words not made with Lungs

Weep not that the world changes—did it keep A stable, changeless state, 'twere cause indeed to weep.

The tears that you spill, the sorrowful, are sweeter than the laughter of snobs and the guffaws of scoffers.

If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together In sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, Green pasture or grey grief;

Aristotle said melancholy men of all others are most witty.

When sorrow is deepest...then the surface crust is pierced, and consolation wells up, and all the forces of patience and courage are banded together to do their duty. Thus great suffering brings with it the power of great endurance. So …

Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy!

In nature there is nothing melancholy.

It is God's will that we hold us in comfort with all our might: for bliss is lasting without end, and pain is passing and shall be brought to nought for them that shall be saved. And therefore it is not God's will that we follow the …

Weep not for those Who sink within the arms of death Ere yet the chilling wintry breath Of sorrow o'er them blows; But weep for them who here remain, The mournful heritors of pain,

And thus I see among these pleasant things Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs!

Follow your Saint, follow with accents sweet; Haste you, sad notes, fall at her flying feet.

I am the only being whose doom No tongue would ask, no eye would mourn; I never caused a thought of gloom A smile of joy since I was born In secret pleasure — secret tears This changeful life has slipped away

40. Q. And how did he expect to learn the cause of sorrow in the jungle? A. By removing far away from all that could prevent his thinking deeply of the causes of sorrow and the nature of man... He went away into the forest near Uruvela, …

We weep when we are born, not when we die!

Tears are as sweet as laughter to some natures.

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; When thou art old there’s grief enough for thee. Mother's wag, pretty boy. Father's sorrow, father's joy; When thy father first did see Such a boy by him and me,

Gentle reader, may you never feel what I then felt? May your eyes never shed such stormy, scalding, heart-wrung tears as poured from mine. May you never appeal to Heaven in prayers so hopeless and so agonized as in that hour left my lips; …

See, Winter comes to rule the varied year, Sullen and sad.