#melancholy

Σίμωσε στο πιάνο και πήρε μερικά ακόρντα. Κείνη τη στιγμή΄έσπασε με κρότο μια χορδή κι έσβησε σ' ένα μακρόσυρτο και τρεμάμενο ήχο... -Ακούς Νιέτοτσκα, ακούς; ρώτησε, ξαφνικά με μια εμπνευσμένη φωνή, δείχνοντας το πιάνο. Τεντώσανε πολύ, πάρα πολύ τούτη τη χορδή· δεν μπόρεσε άλλο να βαστάξει και πέθανε. Ακούς, τι λυπητερά που πεθαίνουν οι ήχοι! ↗

— Fyodor Dostoyevsky

#melancholy #death

Men dream more about coming home than about leaving. ↗

— Paulo Coelho

#inspirational #journey #longing #love #melancholy

To be sane, he held, was either to be sedated by melancholy or activated by hysteria, two responses which were 'always and equally warranted for those of sound insight'. All others were irrational, merely symptoms of imaginations left idle, of memories out of work. And above these mundane responses, the only elevation allowable, the only valid transcendence, was a sardonic one: a bliss that annihilated the universe with jeers of dark joy, a mindful ecstasy. Anything else in the way of 'mysticism' was a sign of deviation or distraction, and a heresy to the obvious. (“The Medusa”) ↗

— Thomas Ligotti

#insanity #melancholy #mysticism #sanity #sardonic

You're in a bad way! Apparently, you have developed a soul. ↗

— Yevgeny Zamyatin

#freedom

I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom. ↗

— Edgar Allan Poe

#alchohol #drinking #drugs #loneliness #melancholy

Melancholy is no bad thing. ↗

— Sting

#bad thing #melancholy #thing

My earlier poems were sadder than my poems are today, perhaps because I wrote them in confusion or when I was unhappy. But I am not a melancholy person, quite the contrary, no one enjoys laughing more than I do. ↗

— Anne Stevenson

#because #confusion #contrary #earlier #enjoys

I went to bed and woke in the middle of the night thinking I heard someone cry, thinking I myself was weeping, and I felt my face and it was dry. Then I looked at the window and thought: Why, yes, it's just the rain, the rain, always the rain, and turned over, sadder still, and fumbled about for my dripping sleep and tried to slip it back on. ↗

— Ray Bradbury

#rain #sadness #sleep #novel

And I realize how useless wails are and how gratuitous melancholy is. ↗

— Mircea Eliade

#wails #roman

I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow. ↗

— Edgar Allan Poe

#sorrow