“Lege atque lacrima.
Read-em and weep.”

— Henry N. Beard, book Latin for All Occasions

Latin for All Occasions (1990)

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Henry N. Beard14

American writer, co-founder and editor of National Lampoon 1945

Tom Peters (1942) American writer on business management practices

November 4, 2010.
Tom Peters Daily, Weekly Quote

“We read of strong men bowed down with woe, weeping as women weep, turning homewards in the hear-sickness of unavailing search, or with a certainty worse than suspense.”

Josephine Butler (1828–1906) British feminist

1870 https://attackingthedevil.co.uk/related/lovers.php

“When I can read my title clear
To mansions in the skies,
I'll bid farewell to every fear,
And wipe my weeping eyes.”

Isaac Watts (1674–1748) English hymnwriter, theologian and logician

Hymn 65 Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Book II.
Attributed from postum publications, Hymns and Spiritual Songs (1773)

“you're rich in love
you're great bed
you'll see the world
you'll knock 'em dead
and all the thick books that you've read
will count for nothing in the end”

Amanda Palmer (1976) American punk-cabaret musician

"Straight" Live (2004)
Lyrics

“I found that I had written a book which even bankers' daughters could read and weep over and feel good about. I swore to myself that if I every wrote another book, no one would weep over it; that it would be so hard and deep that they would have to face it without the consolation of tears.”

Richard Wright (1908–1960) African-American writer

Source: Native Son (1940), p. xxvii

“The holiest, cruellest pains I feel,
Die stillborn, because old men squeal
For something new: "Write something new:
We've read this poem — that one too,
And twelve more like 'em yesterday?"”

Robert Graves (1895–1985) English poet and novelist

"To An Ungentle Critic"
Fairies and Fusiliers (1917)

“West Lake flower garden: a desert, now.
Alone, at the window, I read through old pages.
A smudge of rouge, a scent of perfume, but
I still weep.
Is there a Fate for books?
Why mourn for a half-burned poem?
There is nothing, there is no one to question,
and yet this misery feels like my own.
Ah, in another three hundred years
will anyone weep, remembering my fate?”

Nguyễn Du (1765–1820) Vietnamese poet

"Reading Hsiao-ch'ing", in The Harpercollins World Reader: The Modern World, eds. Mary Ann Caws and Christopher Prendergast (HarperCollins Publishers, 1994), ISBN 978-0065013832, p. 1411
Hsiao-Ching was "a seventeenth-century poet who was forced to become a concubine to a man whose jealous primary wife burned almost all of her poems" — David Damrosch, "Global Scripts and the Formation of Literary Traditions", in Approaches to World Literature (2013), p. 98