Quotes
Quotes about Tears
Death is patiently making my mask as I sleep. Each morning I awake to discover in the corners of my eyes the small tears of his wax.
Wings of angels, tears of saints won't bring you back to me (about her son's suicide) (He will come back to her.. the soul is deathless).
Tears are sometimes an inappropriate response to death. When a life has been lived completely honestly, completely successfully, or just completely, the correct response to death's perfect punctuation mark is a smile.
The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.
The dew, 'Tis of the tears which stars weep, sweet with joy.
Dewdrops, Nature's tears, which she Sheds in her own breast for the fair which die. The sun insists on gladness; but at night, When he is gone, poor Nature loves to weep.
The dews of the evening most carefully shun; Those tears of the sky for the loss of the sun.
Dew-drops are the gems of morning, But the tears of mournful eve!
And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They have a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.
I have known him [Micawber] come home to supper with a flood of tears, and a declaration that nothing was now left but a jail; and go to bed making a calculation of the expense of putting bow-windows to the house, "in case anything turned up," which was his favorite expression.
It is only the women whose eyes have been washed clear with tears who get the broad vision that makes them little sisters to all the world.
I hurt myself today To see if I still feel I focus on the pain The only thing that's real The needle tears a hole The old familiar sting Try to kill it all away But I remember everything.
Ah, ah, Cytherea! Adonis is dead. She wept tear after tear, with the blood which was shed,-- And both turned into flowers for the earth's garden-close; Her tears, to the wind-flower,--his blood, to the rose.
Where fall the tears of love the rose appears, And where the ground is bright with friendship's tears, Forget-me-not, and violets, heavenly blue, Spring glittering with the cheerful drops like dew.
Forgotten? No, we never do forget: We let the years go; wash them clean with tears, Leave them to bleach out in the open day, Or lock them careful by, like dead friends' clothes, Till we shall dare unfold them without pain,-- But we forget not, never can forget.
Ye sons of France, awake to glory! Hark! Hark! what myriads bid you rise! Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary, Behold their tears and hear their cries!
But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth; His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles, His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate, His tears pure messengers sent from his heart, His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.
Ah! were I sever'd from thy side, Where were thy friend and who my guide? Years have not seen, Time shall not see The hour that tears my soul from thee.
I will be near you when you cry if just to say I sympathize and when it's more than you can take, I'll watch the tears fall from your eyes.
Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion . . . . I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.
Were floods of tears to be unloosed In tribute to my grief, The doves of Noah ne'er had roost Nor found an olive-leaf.
Grief tears his heart, and drives him to and fro, In all the raging impotence of woe.
This grief is crowned with consolation, you old smock brings forth a new petticoat, and indeed the tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow.
Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.
The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone. -Harriet Beecher Stowe.
