sorrow

Ask him why there are hypocrites in the world.''Because it is hard to bear the happiness of others.''When are we happy?''When we desire nothing and realize that possession is only momentary, and so are forever playing.''What is regret?''To realize that one has spent one's life worrying about the future.''What is sorrow?''To long for the past.''What is the highest pleasure?''To hear a good story.

I fancied my luck to be witnessing yet another full moon. True, I__ seen hundreds of full moons in my life, but they were not limitless. When one starts thinking of the full moon as a common sight that will come again to one__ eyes ad-infinitum, the value of life is diminished and life goes by uncherished. __his may be my last moon,_ I sighed, feeling a sudden sweep of sorrow; and went back to reading more of The Odyssey.

I wish to weepbut sorrow isstupid.I wish to believebut belief is agraveyard.

To SorrowI bade good morrow,And thought to leave her far away behind;But cheerly, cheerly,She loves me dearly;She is so constant to me, and so kind.

Some of you say, __oy is greater than sorrow,_ and others say, __ay, sorrow is the greater.__ut I say unto you, they are inseparable.Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

grief is a housewhere the chairshave forgotten how to hold usthe mirrors how to reflect usthe walls how to contain usgrief is a house that disappearseach time someone knocks at the dooror rings the bella house that blows into the airat the slightest gustthat buries itself deep in the groundwhile everyone is sleepinggrief is a house where no one can protect youwhere the younger sisterwill grow older than the older onewhere the doorsno longer let you inor out

Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain.

Come away, O human child!To the waters and the wildWith a faery, hand in hand,For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

The beauty in our beliefs causes us to let our grassy goals and dreams take root, for sorrow gives seed to success, success blossoms into significance, and significance transcends the seasons that come and go with the whims of the world.

Pain writes the words, sorrow wields the pen, tears wet the paper, and the story mends the heart.

What does life give me in the end but sorrow?What do love's good and evil send but sorrow?I've only seen one true companion - pain,And I have known no faithful friend but sorrow.

more. To have days cut off and at their end. To never again..........anything.

I -- I alone know how to mourn for him as he deserves.' But while we were still shaking hands, such a look of awful desolation came upon her face that I perceived she was one of those creatures that are not the playthings of Time. For her he had died only yesterday. And, by Jove! the impression was so powerful that for me, too, he seemed to have died only yesterday -- nay, this very minute. I saw her and him in the same instant of time -- his death and her sorrow -- I saw her sorrow in the very moment of his death. Do you understand? I saw them together -- I heard them together.

Life makes beggars out of those who have joyful hearts, taxing the living with hardship and tribulation, but the charity of companionship, the currency of shared and unmitigated love, alleviates all disconsolation.

But now, as it is, sorrows, unending sorrows must surge within your heart as well__or your own son__ death. Never again will you embrace him stiding home. My spirit rebels____e lost the will to live, to take my stand in the world of men_

Heavy misfortunes have befallen us, but let us only cling closer to what remains, and transfer our love for those whom we have lost to those who yet live. Our circle will be small, but bound close by the ties of affection and mutual misfortune. And when time shall have softened your despair, new and dear objects of care will be born to replace those of whom we have been so cruelly deprived.

There is sorrow enough in the natural wayFrom men and woman to fill our day;But when we are certain of sorrow in store,Why do we always arrange for more?Brothers & Sisters, I bid you bewareOf giving your heart to a dog to tear.

To be alive, it seemed to me, as I stood there in all kinds of sorrow, was to be both original and reflection, and to be dead was to be split off, to be reflection alone.