#sadness

It's the poignancy and sadness in things that gets to me. ↗

— Tracey Ullman

#me #poignancy #sadness #things

What made losing someone you loved bearable was not remembering but forgetting. Forgetting small things first... it's amazing how much you could forget, and everything you forgot made that person less alive inside you until you could finally endure it. After more time passed you could let yourself remember, even want to remember. But even then what you felt those first days could return and remind you the grief was still there, like old barbed wire embedded in a tree's heartwood. ↗

— Ron Rash

#life #loss #love #pain #sadness

We never taste a perfect joy; our happiest successes are mixed with sadness. ↗

— Pierre Corneille

#joy #mixed #never #our #perfect

We never taste happiness in perfection, our most fortunate successes are mixed with sadness. ↗

— Pierre Corneille

#happiness #mixed #most #never #our

It has an L on it. L for love. See? It's the key to the universe, Dad. You said you were looking for it. You told Mom you were. I found it for you so you don't have to look anymore. So you can come home at night. ↗

— Jennifer Donnelly

#keys #love #sadness #family

He looked at her as a man might look at a faded flower he had plucked, in which it was difficult for him to trace the beauty that had made him pick and so destroy it ↗

— Leo Tolstoy

#despair #leo-tolstoy #love #sadness #beauty

I can mourn internally, just be quiet about it. I have my moments but I'm not a real, expressive person, especially when it comes to like sadness. ↗

— Faith Evans

#comes #especially #expressive #i #i can

You can't keep the birds of sadness from flying over your head, but you can keep them from nesting in your hair. ↗

— Sharon Creech

#moon

I went to a tattoo parlor and had YES written onto the palm of my left hand, and NO onto my right palm, what can I say, it hasn't made my life wonderful, its made life possible, when I rub my hands against each other in the middle of winter I am warming myself with the friction of YES and NO, when I clap my hands I am showing my appreciation through the uniting and parting of YES and NO, I signify "book" by peeling open my hands, every book, for me, is the balance of YES and NO, even this one, my last one, especially this one. Does it break my heart, of course, every moment of every day, into more pieces than my heart was made of, I never thought of myself as quiet, much less silent, I never thought about things at all, everything changed, the distance that wedged itself between me and my happiness wasn't the world, it wasn't the bombs and burning buildings, it was me, my thinking, the cancer of never letting go, is ignorance bliss, I don't know, but it's so painful to think, and tell me, what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever bring me? I think and think and think, I've thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it. ↗

— Jonathan Safran Foer

#love #sadness #change

And lastly from that period I remember riding in a taxi one afternoon between very tall buildings under a mauve and rosy sky; I began to bawl because I had everything I wanted and knew I would never be so happy again. ↗

— F. Scott Fitzgerald

#sadness #sky