“Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.”

“A slow singer, but loading each phrase
With history’s overtones, love, joy
And grief learned by his dark tribe
In other orchards and passed on
Instinctively as they are now,
But fresh always with new tears.”

“Unhappiness is selfish, grief is selfish. For whom are the tears?”

“While grief is fresh, every attempt to divert only irritates. You must wait till grief be digested, and then amusement will dissipate the remains of it.”

“Waste of Blood, and waste of Tears
Waste of youth's most precious years,
Waste of ways the saints have trod,
Waste of Glory, waste of God,
War!”

“No tears, please. It's a waste of good suffering.”

“There is a sacredness in tears…. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love.”

“And let these tears, distilling from mine eyes,
Be proof of my grief and innocency.”

“A grief without a pang, void, dark and drear,
A drowsy, stifled, unimpassioned grief,
Which finds no natural outlet or relief,
In word, or sigh, or tear.”

“Grief is half of old age.”