Succumbing finally, she lets out a loud shriek as her vehicle stops at a red light. __uck._ She hollers cursing the night. Cursing the shadows, cursing the unknown condemned she intends to meet this evening. Tears roll down her cheeks landing on her bullet proof vest.
The branches of the trees looked as if they were holding hands and bowing their heads in prayer.
A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier
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The branches of the trees looked as if they were holding hands and bowing their heads in prayer.
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Within its gates I heard the soundOf winds in cypress caverns caughtOf huddling tress that moaned, and soughtTo whisper what their roots had found.(__ Dream of Fear_)
How is it that from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness?__rom the covenant of peace a simile of sorrow? But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born.
Ah, cruel fate, how swiftly joy and sorrow alternate!
Who can ever know what path to walk on when all of them are either crooked or broken? One just has to walk.
Sorrow and self-pity consume enormous quantities of energy. If you only can desist from feeling victimized by fate and look for a new solution instead, not only would you conserve old energies but at the same time also feel the surge of the new. New hope is kindled in the process.