It is depressing to hear the unfortunate or dying man jest.
Send
Sadness
Sometimes I wonder if suicides aren't in fact sad guardians of the meaning of life.
Send
He felt homesick for places he had never been. He missed hearts he had never loved.
Send
People exaggerate both happiness and unhappiness; we are never so fortunate nor so unfortunate as people say we are.
Send
This is a terrible hour, but it is often that darkest point which precedes the rise of day; that turn of the year when the icy January wind carries over the waste at once the dirge of departing winter, and the prophecy of coming spring.
from the book "Shirley." by Bronte Charlotte
I shall be called discontented. I could not help it: the restlessness was in my nature; it agitated me to pain sometimes.
from the book "" by Charlotte Brontė
In the case of most pains let this remark of Epicurus aid thee, that the pain is neither intolerable nor everlasting, if thou bear in mind that it has its limits, and if thou addest nothing to it in imagination...
Send
My God, whose son, as on this night, took on Him the form of man, and for man vouchsafed to suffer and bleed, controls thy hand, and without His behest, thou canst not strike a stroke. My God is sinless, eternal, all-wise, and in Him is my trust, and though stripped and crushed by thee, - though naked, desolate, void of resource - I do not despair: where the lance of Guthrum now wet with my blood, I should not despair. I watch, I toil, I hope, I pray: Jehovah, in His own time, will aid.
Send
I have neither a fear, nor a presentiment, nor a hope of death. Why should I? With my hard constitution, and temperate mode of living, and unperilous occupations, I ought to, and probably shall remain above ground, till there is scarcely a black hair on my head. And yet I cannot continue in this condition! I have to remind myself to breathe, almost to remind my heart to beat! And it is like bending back a stiff spring it is by compulsion that I do the slightest act, not prompted by one thought; and by compulsion that I notice anything alive or dead, which is not associated with one universal idea. I have a single wish, and my whole being and faculties are yearning to attain it. They have yearned towards it so long and so unwaveringly, that I'm convinced it will be reached, and soon, because it has devoured my existence. I am swallowed up in the anticipation of its fulfilment. My confessions have not relieved me, but they may account for some otherwise unaccountable phases of humour which I show. Oh, God! It's a long fight, I wish it were over!
from the book "Wuthering Heights" by Emily Brontė
in Quotes & Aphorisms (Sadness)
You may break your heart, but men will still go on as before.
Send