#sorrow

I hadn’t understood at the time. If sinners were so unhappy,why would they prefer their suffering? But now I knew why. Without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my past was my life. ↗

— Janet Fitch

#loss #sorrow #life

I remember watching the mascara tears flood the ivories and I thought, "It's OK to be sad." I've been trained to love my darkness. ↗

— Lady Gaga

#love

Deep in earth my love is lying And I must weep alone. ↗

— Edgar Allan Poe

#crying #sorrow #love

You will be a great queen when you come back, you know. And someday you'll love me the way you love your wolf. ↗

— Carrie Jones

#relationships #sorrow #love

But sorry is the Kool-Aid of human emotions. [...] True sorrow is as rare as true love. ↗

— Stephen King

#remorse #sorrow #sorry #stephen-king #love

No truth can cure the sadness we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no strength, no kindness, can cure that sorrow. All we can do is see that sadness through to the end and learn something from it, but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sadness that comes to us without warning. ↗

— Haruki Murakami

#kindness #learning #sadness #sincerity #sorrow

Isn't it time that these most ancient sorrows of ours grew fruitful? Time that we tenderly loosed ourselves from the loved one, and, unsteadily, survived: the way the arrow, suddenly all vector, survives the string to be more than itself. For abiding is nowhere. ↗

— Rainer Maria Rilke

#arrow #love #sorrow #vector #love

Fire tests gold, suffering tests brave men. ↗

— Lucius Annaeus Seneca

#grief #hardship #misfortune #sorrow #suffering

Women eat ice-cream, men toast marshmallows. ↗

— Dianna Hardy

#ice-cream #male-bonding #marshmallows #men-and-women #sorrow

Middle children weep longer than their brothers and sisters. Over her mother’s shoulder, stilling her pains and her injured pride, Jackie Lacon watched the party leave. First, two men she had not seen before: one tall, one short and dark. They drove off in a small green van. No one waved to them, she noticed, or even said goodbye. Next, her father left in his own car; lastly a blond, good-looking man and a short fat one in an enormous overcoat like a pony blanket made their way to a sports car parked under the beech trees. For a moment she really thought there must be something wrong with the fat one, he followed so slowly and so painfully. Then, seeing the handsome man hold the car door for him, he seemed to wake, and hurried forward with a lumpy skip. Unaccountably, this gesture upset her afresh. A storm of sorrow seized her and her mother could not console her. ↗

— John le Carré

#men