Quotes about sorrow
page 9

Jean Paul photo

“Has it never occurred to us, when surrounded by sorrows, that they may be sent to us only for our instruction, as we darken the cages of birds when we wish to teach them to sing?”

Jean Paul (1763–1825) German novelist

Source: Dictionary of Burning Words of Brilliant Writers (1895), P. 556.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe photo

“Nothing venture, nothing gain.
Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate,
Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours
Weeping upon his bed has sate,
He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.”

Wer nichts wagt, gerwinnt nichts.
Wer nie sein Brot mit Tränen aß,
Wer nie die kummervollen Nächte
Auf seinem Bette weinend saß,
Der kennt euch nicht, ihr himmlischen Mächte.
Bk. II, Ch. 13; translation by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Wilhelm Meister's Lehrjahre (Apprenticeship) (1786–1830)

Stig Dagerman photo
Dana Gioia photo
Samuel Taylor Coleridge photo
Adelaide Anne Procter photo
Jean Ingelow photo

“How short our happy days appear!
How long the sorrowful!”

Jean Ingelow (1820–1897) British writer

"The Mariner's Cave", reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).

Charles Darwin photo

“Animals whom we have made our slaves we do not like to consider our equals. — Do not slave holders wish to make the black man other kind? — animals with affections, imitation, fear of death, pain, sorrow for the dead.”

Charles Darwin (1809–1882) British naturalist, author of "On the origin of species, by means of natural selection"

respect.
" Notebook B http://darwin-online.org.uk/EditorialIntroductions/vanWyhe_notebooks.html" (1837-1838) page 231 http://darwin-online.org.uk/content/frameset?pageseq=233&itemID=CUL-DAR121.-&viewtype=side
quoted in [2009, Darwin's Sacred Cause: How a Hatred of Slavery Shaped Darwin's Views on Human Evolution, Adrian Desmond & James Moore, New York, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 9780547055268, 23042290M, 115, http://books.google.com/books?id=V9cGkBj_8iYC&pg=PA115&dq="Animals+whom+we+have+made+our+slaves"]
Other letters, notebooks, journal articles, recollected statements

Thomas Moore photo

“Love, nursed among pleasures, is faithless as they,
But the love born of Sorrow, like Sorrow, is true.”

Thomas Moore (1779–1852) Irish poet, singer and songwriter

In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown, st. 2
Irish Melodies http://www.musicanet.org/robokopp/moore.html (1807–1834)

William Davenant photo

“Since knowledge is but sorrow's spy,
It is not safe to know.”

William Davenant (1606–1668) English poet and playwright

The Just Italian (licensed Oct. 2, 1629; printed 1630), Act v. Sc. 1.
Compare: "From ignorance our comfort flows", Matthew Prior, To the Hon. Charles Montague; "Where ignorance is bliss, ’T is folly to be wise", Thomas Gray, Eton College, Stanza 10.

Rāmabhadrācārya photo

“O the omnipotent Lord, the remover of the distress of your worshippers! Protect me, who is being consumed by the extremely dreadful fire of sorrows, who is helplessly falling in the ocean of the mundane world, who is without any protector, who is ignorant, and who is bonded by the shackles of delusion.”

Rāmabhadrācārya (1950) Hindu religious leader

mahāghoraśokāgninātapyamānaṃ
patantaṃ nirāsārasaṃsārasindhau ।
anāthaṃ jaḍaṃ mohapāśena baddhaṃ
prabho pāhi māṃ sevakakleśaharttaḥ ॥
[Dinkar, Dr. Vagish, श्रीभार्गवराघवीयम् मीमांसा, Investigation into Śrībhārgavarāghavīyam, Deshbharti Prakashan, Delhi, India, 2008, 9788190827669, Hindi]

Ian McEwan photo

“Nearby, where the main road forked, stood an iron cross on a stone base. As the English couple watched, a mason was cutting in half a dozen fresh names. On the far side of the street, in the deep shadow of a doorway, a youngish woman in black was also watching. She was so pale they assumed at first she had some sort of wasting disease. She remained perfectly still, with one hand holding an edge of her headscarf so that it obscured her mouth. The mason seemed embarrassed and kept his back to her while he worked. After a quarter of an hour an old man in blue workman's clothes came shuffling along in carpet slippers and took her hand without a word and led her away. When the propriétaire came out he nodded at the other side of the street, at the empty space and murmured, 'Trois. Mari et deux frères,' as he set down their salads.This sombre incident remained with them as they struggled up the hill in the heat, heavy with lunch, towards the Bergerie de Tédenat. They stopped half way up in the shade of a stand of pines before a long stretch of open ground. Bernard was to remember this moment for the rest of his life. As they drank from their water bottles he was struck by the recently concluded war not as a historical, geopolitical fact but as a multiplicity, a near-infinity of private sorrows, as a boundless grief minutely subdivided without diminishment among individuals who covered the continent like dust, like spores whose separate identities would remain unknown, and whose totality showed more sadness than anyone could ever begin to comprehend; a weight borne in silence by hundreds of thousands, millions, like the woman in black for a husband and two brothers, each grief a particular, intricate, keening love story that might have been otherwise. It seemed as though he had never thought about the war before, not about its cost. He had been so busy with the details of his work, of doing it well, and his widest view had been of war aims, of winning, of statistical deaths, statistical destruction, and of post-war reconstruction. For the first time he sensed the scale of the catastrophe in terms of feeling; all those unique and solitary deaths, all that consequent sorrow, unique and solitary too, which had no place in conferences, headlines, history, and which had quietly retired to houses, kitchens, unshared beds, and anguished memories. This came upon Bernard by a pine tree in the Languedoc in 1946 not as an observation he could share with June but as a deep apprehension, a recognition of a truth that dismayed him into silence and, later, a question: what possible good could come of a Europe covered in this dust, these spores, when forgetting would be inhuman and dangerous, and remembering a constant torture?”

Page 164-165.
Black Dogs (1992)

James Macpherson photo

“Sorrow, like a cloud on the sun, shades the soul of Clessammor.”

James Macpherson (1736–1796) Scottish writer, poet, translator, and politician

"Carthon"
The Poems of Ossian

Johannes Warnardus Bilders photo

“Nothing has happened since two or three days.... nothing special, only the Ladies van Loon have visited me this morning, I have shown them a few of my studies, and talked a lot about [Huis] 't Velde and {[w|nl:Vorden|Vorden}}. Now I could tell you further, how little I still feel at home, how a certain nostalgia or quiet sorrow plunges me down, and how an indefinite hurry for an even more uncertain future dominates my whole [being? ]; but why should I bother You by telling You my inner life..”

Johannes Warnardus Bilders (1811–1890) painter from the Northern Netherlands

translation from Dutch, Fons Heijnsbroek
version in original Dutch (citaat van Johannes Warnardus Bilders' brief, in het Nederlands): Er is sedert de twee of drie dagen.. ..niets bijzonders voorgevallen, alleen de freules van Loon zijn heden morgen bij mij geweest, ik heb paar mijn studies laten zien, en verder veel over 't Velde en Vorden met hen gesproken; nu zou ik UE nog verder kunnen zeggen, hoe weinig ik mij nog te huis gevoel, hoe een zeker heimwee, of stil verdriet mij ter nederdrukt, en, hoe een onbestemd jagen, naar een nog onbestemder toekomst mijn gehele [aanschijn[?] beheerst; maar waar om zou ik UE vermoeijen; door UE mijn innerlijk leven mede te delen..
J.W. Bilders, in his letter [including a pencil-sketch of trees along a water] to Georgina van Dijk van 't Velde, from Castle Voorst in Warnsveld, 22 Oct. 1868; from an excerpt of the letter https://rkd.nl/nl/explore/excerpts/751208 in the RKD-Archive, The Hague
In 1868 Bilders traveled to the North of The Netherlands, to make sketches
1860's + 1870's

George Eliot photo
Slavoj Žižek photo
Johann Gottlieb Fichte photo

““Whether there can be love without esteem?” Oh yes, thou dear, pure one! Love is of many kinds. Rousseau proves that by his reasoning and still better by his example. La pauvre Maman and Madame N____ love in very different fashions. But I believe there are many kinds of love which do not appear in Rousseau’s life. You are very right in saying that no true and enduring love can exist without cordial esteem; that every other draws regret after it, and is unworthy of any noble soul. One word about pietism. Pietists place religion chiefly in externals; in acts of worship performed mechanically, without aim, as bond-service to god; in orthodoxy of opinion; and they have this among other characteristic marks, that they give themselves more solicitude about other’s piety than their own. It is not right to hate these men,-we should hate no one, but to me they are very contemptible, for their character implies the most deplorable emptiness of the head, and the most sorrowful perversion of the heart. Such my dear friend never can be; she cannot become such, even were it possible-which it is not-that her character were perverted; she can never become such, her nature has too much reality in it. You trust in Providence, your anticipation of a future life, are wise, and Christian. I hope, I may venture to speak of myself, that no one will take me to be a pietist or stiff formalist, but I know no feeling more thoroughly interwoven with my soul than these are.”

Johann Gottlieb Fichte (1762–1814) German philosopher

Johann Fichte Letter to Johanna Rahn from Johann Gottlieb Fichte's popular works: Memoir and The Nature of the Scholar<!--pp. 14-15--> https://archive.org/stream/johanngottlieb00fichuoft#page/14/mode/1up

Robert Hall photo
Aurangzeb photo

“Health to thee! My heart is near thee. Old age is arrived. Weakness subdues me, and strength has sorsaken all my members. I came a stranger into this world, and a stranger I depart. I do not know who I am, nor what I have been doing. The instant which has passed in power has left only sorrow behind it. I have not been the guardian and protector of the empire. My valuable time has been passed vainly…”

Aurangzeb (1618–1707) Sixth Mughal Emperor

Letter to Shaw Azim Shaw, see A Translation of the Memoirs of Eradut Khan a Nobleman of Hindostan https://books.google.com/books?id=99VCAAAAcAAJ&pg=PT25 Also in The Mogul Emperors of Hindustan, A.D. 1398-A.D. 1707 https://books.google.com/books?id=m3o4BfQ4nmMC&pg=PA304 p. 304. Also in Sources of Indian Traditions: Modern India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh https://books.google.com/books?id=w8qJAwAAQBAJ&pg=PA4 p. 4. Also in The Rajpoot Tribes Vol.2 by Charles Metcalfe, p. 305
Quotes from late medieval histories

Letitia Elizabeth Landon photo
Sarada Devi photo

“The creation itself is full of griefs. How can one understand joy if there is no sorrow? And how can everyone be happy at the same time?”

Sarada Devi (1853–1920) Hindu religious figure, spiritual consort of Ramakrishna

[In the Company of the Holy Mother, 66-67]

John Muir photo

“Earth hath no sorrows that earth cannot heal, or heaven cannot heal, for the earth as seen in the clean wilds of the mountains is about as divine as anything the heart of man can conceive!”

John Muir (1838–1914) Scottish-born American naturalist and author

1872(?), page 99
Echoing the 1816 hymn Come Ye Disconsolate http://www.hymntime.com/tch/htm/c/y/d/cydiscon.htm by Thomas Moore: "Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal."
John of the Mountains, 1938

Miguel de Unamuno photo
Hideo Kojima photo
Walter Raleigh photo

“If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy Love.But fading flowers in every field,
To winter floods their treasures yield;
A honey'd tongue, a heart of gall,
Is Fancy's spring, but Sorrow's fall.”

Walter Raleigh (1554–1618) English aristocrat, writer, poet, soldier, courtier, spy, and explorer

The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd (1599), st. 1–2
Inspired by Christopher Marlowe's The Passionate Shepherd to his Love

Kim Jong-il photo

“It is my greatest wish to enable our people to live with nothing to envy at the earliest possible date, and it is my greatest pleasure to work energetically, sharing my joys and sorrows with our people, on the road of translating my wish into reality.”

Kim Jong-il (1941–2011) General Secretary of the Workers' Party of Korea

Source: Response to questions from Russia's ITAR-TASS news agency (13 October 2011) http://naenara.com.kp/en/news/news_view.php?22+1477

John Keats photo
George W. Bush photo
Ryū Murakami photo
José Rizal photo
Dinah Craik photo

“There is no sorrow under heaven which is, or ought to be, endless. To believe or to make it so, is an insult to Heaven itself.”

Dinah Craik (1826–1887) English novelist and poet

Source: A Woman's Thoughts About Women (1858), Ch. 10

Herb Caen photo

“Parking is such street sorrow.”

Herb Caen (1916–1997) American newspaper columnist

Byrne, Robert. The 2,548 Wittiest Things Anybody Ever Said, page 554. http://books.google.com/books?id=odz2rZirMAkC&pg=PT554 Simon and Schuster, 2012. ISBN 145164891X
Attributed

John Flavel photo
John Mayer photo
Ivo Kozarčanin photo

“Night is an ally of sorrowful people.”

Ivo Kozarčanin (1911–1941) Croatian writer

quoted in Group of Authors: Velika knjiga aforizama, Prosvjeta-Globus, Vol. IV, 1984

“I see you off and sorrow—Oh, to be
your horse on land, your vessel on the stream!”

Đặng Trần Côn (1710–1745) writer

Ðưa chàng lòng dằng dặc buồn,
Bộ khôn bằng ngựa, thủy khôn bằng thuyền.
Source: Chinh phụ ngâm, Lines 27–28

Letitia Elizabeth Landon photo
Letitia Elizabeth Landon photo

“Sweet Hope! every pleasant flower
Suns itself in thy glad power;
Every sorrow comes to thee,
Desart fount for Misery!”

Letitia Elizabeth Landon (1802–1838) English poet and novelist

(15th March 1823) Poetical Catalogue of Pictures. Hope, from a design by a Lady.
The London Literary Gazette, 1823

Pete Doherty photo

“Don't let the tide of your sorrow
Drown your nights and flood your days”

Pete Doherty (1979) English musician, writer, actor, poet and artist

"Don't Be Shy"(with Carl Barat)
Lyrics and poetry

William March photo
Thomas Carlyle photo

“For sorrow is our joy,
And joy our greatest sorrow.
Elissa dies tonight,
And Carthage flames tomorrow.”

Nahum Tate (1652–1715) Anglo-Irish poet and playwright

Dido and Aeneas (opera; music by Henry Purcell)

Washington Irving photo
Walter de la Mare photo
Katherine Philips photo

“I did but see him and he disappeared,
I did but pluck the rose-bud and it fell,
A sorrow unforeseen and scarcely feared,
For ill can mortals their afflictions spell.”

Katherine Philips (1632–1664) Anglo-Welsh poet and translator

'On the Death of my First and Dearest Child, Hector Philips' (1655), as reported in The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, ed. Elizabeth Knowles (Oxford University Press, 1999), p. 575

Edgar Wilson Nye photo
R. Venkataraman photo
Dorothy Wordsworth photo
Isaac Watts photo

“No more let sins and sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found.”

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

Stanza 3.
1710s, Psalm 98 "Joy to the World!" (1719)

William Gibson photo
Percy Bysshe Shelley photo
Rollo May photo
Julian of Norwich photo
Corneliu Zelea Codreanu photo
Colum McCann photo
Nicholas Lore photo
Julian of Norwich photo
Robert Seymour Bridges photo

“Angels’ song, comforting
as the comfort of Christ
When he spake tenderly
to his sorrowful flock.”

Robert Seymour Bridges (1844–1930) British writer

Noel Christmas Eve 1913.
Poetry

J. Sheridan Le Fanu photo
Michael Elmore-Meegan photo

“In the rest of Nirvana all sorrows surcease:
Only Buddha can guide to that city of Peace
Whose inhabitants have the eternal release.”

William R. Alger (1822–1905) American clergyman and poet

"A Leader to Repose", p. 101.
Poetry of the Orient, 1865 edition

Joseph Joubert photo

“The bright days of my youth
They were full of hope
The great journey that was before me then
Was what was destined to be, bye bye.
Now I'm sorrowful,
The day is long past.
Alas and woe, oh.”

Enya (1961) Irish singer, songwriter, and musician

"The Bright Days of My Youth" (original Irish Gaelic title "Na Laetha Geal M'óige")
Song lyrics, Watermark (1988)

Ella Wheeler Wilcox photo

“How fleeting the sorrows of youth, how slight the foundations on which the young build towers of despair”

Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850–1919) American author and poet

"Forward" to Yesterdays 1910 edition

George W. Bush photo
Letitia Elizabeth Landon photo
Stéphane Mallarmé photo

“The flesh is sorrowful, alas! And I've read all the books.”

La chair est triste, hélas! et j'ai lu tous les livres.
"Brise Marine", line 1 (1887), as translated in Mallarmé : The Poet and his Circle ([1999] 2005) by Rosemary Lloyd, p. 70.
Observations

Bawa Muhaiyaddeen photo
André Maurois photo

“But alas, I'm going to die!
I'm a chap who…clings to life with the fingernails of both hands.
One who drinks of love till it overflows his lips,
But alas, I'm going to die…
The other night I sat alone in agony,
Listening to the hours pass, wracked with sorrow…
I have arrived to face the cold border of nihility.”

Xuân Diệu (1916–1985) Vietnamese poet

"Nothingness" [Hư vô], as quoted in "Shattered Identities and Contested Images: Reflections of Poetry and History in 20th-Century Vietnam" by Neil Jamieson, in Crossroads: An Interdisciplinary Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, Vol. 7, No. 2, 1992, p. 87, and in Understanding Vietnam by Neil Jamieson (University of California Press, 1995), p. 162

E. L. James photo
Melanie Joy photo
Phil Ochs photo
Henry Taylor photo
Julian of Norwich photo

“I saw four manner of dryings: the first was bloodlessness; the second was pain following after; the third, hanging up in the air, as men hang a cloth to dry; the fourth, that the bodily Kind asked liquid and there was no manner of comfort ministered to Him in all His woe and distress. Ah! hard and grievous was his pain, but much more hard and grievous it was when the moisture failed and began to dry thus, shrivelling.
These were the pains that shewed in the blessed head: the first wrought to the dying, while it had moisture; and that other, slow, with shrinking drying, with blowing of the wind from without, that dried and pained Him with cold more than mine heart can think.
And other pains — for which pains I saw that all is too little that I can say: for it may not be told. The which Shewing of Christ’s pains filled me full of pain. For I wist well He suffered but once, but He would shew it me and fill me with mind as I had afore desired. And in all this time of Christ’s pains I felt no pain but for Christ’s pains. Then thought-me: I knew but little what pain it was that I asked; and, as a wretch, repented me, thinking: If I had wist what it had been, loth me had been to have prayed it. For methought it passed bodily death, my pains.
I thought: Is any pain like this? And I was answered in my reason: Hell is another pain: for there is despair. But of all pains that lead to salvation this is the most pain, to see thy Love suffer. How might any pain be more to me than to see Him that is all my life, all my bliss, and all my joy, suffer? Here felt I soothfastly that I loved Christ so much above myself that there was no pain that might be suffered like to that sorrow that I had to Him in pain.”

Julian of Norwich (1342–1416) English theologian and anchoress

The Eighth Revelation, Chapter 17

Kuruvilla Pandikattu photo

“Real genuine joy is borne of sadness and sorrow.”

Kuruvilla Pandikattu (1957) Indian philosopher

Joy: Share it! p. 36.
Joy: Share it! (2017)

Julian of Norwich photo
Archilochus photo

“Keep some measure in the joy you take in luck, and the degree you
give way to sorrow.”

Archilochus (-680–-645 BC) Ancient Greek lyric poet

Fragment 67, as translated by R. Lattimore http://www.rhapsodes.fll.vt.edu/arkhilokhos67.htm
Variant translations:
Soul, my soul, don't let them break you,
all these troubles. Never yield:
though their force is overwhelming,
up! attack them shield to shield...
"Archilochos: To His Soul" : A fragment http://web.archive.org/20030629194753/geocities.com/joncpoetics/translations/Archsoul.htm as translated from the Greek by Jon Corelis http://web.archive.org/20030805055937/www.geocities.com/joncpoetics/
Take the joy and bear the sorrow,
looking past your hopes and fears:
learn to recognize the measured
dance that orders all our years.
"Archilochos: To His Soul" : A fragment, as translated from the Greek by Jon Corelis
Fragments
Context: Heart, my heart, so battered with misfortune far beyond your strength,
up, and face the men who hate us. Bare your chest to the assault
of the enemy, and fight them off. Stand fast among the beamlike spears.
Give no ground; and if you beat them, do not brag in open show,
nor, if they beat you, run home and lie down on your bed and cry.
Keep some measure in the joy you take in luck, and the degree you
give way to sorrow. All our life is up-and-down like this.

George William Curtis photo

“Ah, Mr. Douglas! Mr. Douglas! if the little child just born to you were stolen from your arms and sold into slavery, and you went through fire and water to rescue her, would you say so airily, so jauntily, with such pleasant humor, that if you went to steal her you trust you would be caught and put in jail with other thieves? And yet not more do you love that child hanging at this moment upon her mother's bosom, than an old slave mother whom I know in the hospital across the river loved the child who forty years ago was torn from her breast and sold, and of whose fate for forty years that silent, sorrowing Rachel has not heard?”

George William Curtis (1824–1892) American writer

1850s, The Present Aspect of the Slavery Question (1859)
Context: Mister Douglas in his speech at Memphis expressly says, 'Whenever a territory has a climate, soil, and productions making it the interest of the inhabitants to encourage slave property, they will pass a slave-code and give it encouragement'. He adds that they have a right to do it, and in his late speech at Columbus he declares that there must be no interference with any action of any state, insisting, according to the report, amid great laughter at the exquisite humor of the witticism, 'If you go over to Virginia to steal her Negroes, I trust she will catch you and put you in jail with other thieves'. Ah, Mr. Douglas! Mr. Douglas! if the little child just born to you were stolen from your arms and sold into slavery, and you went through fire and water to rescue her, would you say so airily, so jauntily, with such pleasant humor, that if you went to steal her you trust you would be caught and put in jail with other thieves? And yet not more do you love that child hanging at this moment upon her mother's bosom, than an old slave mother whom I know in the hospital across the river loved the child who forty years ago was torn from her breast and sold, and of whose fate for forty years that silent, sorrowing Rachel has not heard?

“History is not made only by kings and parliaments, presidents, wars, and generals. It is the story of people, of their love, honor, faith, hope and suffering; of birth and death, of hunger, thirst and cold, of loneliness and sorrow.”

Louis L'Amour (1908–1988) Novelist, short story writer

Preface
Sackett's Land (1974)
Context: We are all of us, it has been said, the children of immigrants and foreigners — even the American Indian, although he arrived here a little earlier. What a man is and what he becomes is in part due to his heritage, and the men and women who came west did not emerge suddenly from limbo. Behind them were ancestors, families, and former lives. Yet even as the domestic cattle of Europe evolved into the wild longhorns of Texas, so the American pioneer had the characteristics of a distinctive type.
Physically and psychologically, the pioneers' need for change had begun in the old countries with their decision to migrate. In most cases their decisions were personal, ordered by no one else. Even when migration was ordered or forced, the people who survived were characterized by physical strength, the capacity to endure, and not uncommonly, a rebellious nature.
History is not made only by kings and parliaments, presidents, wars, and generals. It is the story of people, of their love, honor, faith, hope and suffering; of birth and death, of hunger, thirst and cold, of loneliness and sorrow. In writing my stories I have found myself looking back again and again to origins, to find and clearly see the ancestors of the pioneers.

Julie Taymor photo

“Joy is deeper than sorrow, for all joy seeks eternity.”

Julie Taymor (1952) American film and theatre director

Academy of Achievement interview (2006)
Context: In our culture, we think that happy and color is trivial, that black and darkness is deeper. But Nietzsche said — which is a line that I firmly believe — "Joy is deeper than sorrow, for all joy seeks eternity." And if you see Grendel, you'll see, as he's on the edge of the abyss, ready to leap to his death, he sings, "Is it joy I feel? Is it joy I feel?" And it's so, so moving. You can have a lot of different explanations for the ending of that opera, but there is something so palpable that you will feel when he sings those lines.

Khalil Gibran photo

“I sorrowed no more.
Who would sorrow for a sea that is unveiling its face, or for a mountain that laughs in the sun?”

Philip: And When He Died All Mankind Died
Jesus, The Son of Man (1928)
Context: I too died. But in the depth of my oblivion I heard Him speak and say, "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do."
And His voice sought my drowned spirit and I was brought back to the shore.
And I opened my eyes and I saw His white body hanging against the cloud, and His words that I had heard took the shape within me and became a new man. And I sorrowed no more.
Who would sorrow for a sea that is unveiling its face, or for a mountain that laughs in the sun?
Was it ever in the heart of man, when that heart was pierced, to say such words?
What other judge of men has released His judges? And did ever love challenge hate with power more certain of itself?
Was ever such a trumpet heard 'twixt heaven and earth?
Was it known before that the murdered had compassion on his murderers? Or that the meteor stayed his footsteps for the mole?
The seasons shall tire and the years grow old, ere they exhaust these words: "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do."

Lydia Maria Child photo

“The cure for all the ills and wrongs, the cares, the sorrows, and crimes of humanity, all lie in that one word LOVE. It is the divine vitality that produces and restores life.”

Lydia Maria Child (1802–1880) American abolitionist, author and women's rights activist

Letters from New York https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=dcYDAAAAQAAJ&rdid=book-dcYDAAAAQAAJ&rdot=1 (1841-1843), p. 206, Letter XXVIII, 29 Sep 1842
1840s, Letters from New York (1843)
Context: The cure for all the ills and wrongs, the cares, the sorrows, and crimes of humanity, all lie in that one word LOVE. It is the divine vitality that produces and restores life. To each and every one of us it gives the power of working miracles, if we will.

Julian of Norwich photo
Jiddu Krishnamurti photo

“The understanding of relationship, fear, pleasure and sorrow is to bring order in our house. Without order you cannot possibly meditate.”

Jiddu Krishnamurti (1895–1986) Indian spiritual philosopher

The Network of Thought (1982) http://www.jkrishnamurti.org/krishnamurti-teachings/view-text.php?tid=8&chid=56898 J.Krishnamurti Online. Serial No. 332. , p. 96
1980s
Context: The understanding of relationship, fear, pleasure and sorrow is to bring order in our house. Without order you cannot possibly meditate. Now the speaker puts meditation at the end of the talks because there is no possibility of right meditation if you have not put your house, your psychological house, in order. If the psychological house is in disorder, if what you are is in disorder, what is the point of meditating? It is just an escape. It leads to all kinds of illusions.

John Vance Cheney photo

“Not in the time of pleasure
Hope doth set her bow;
But in the sky of sorrow,
Over the vale of woe.”

John Vance Cheney (1848–1922) American writer

The Century Vol. 44, Issue 4 (August 1892)
Tears (1892)
Context: Not in the time of pleasure
Hope doth set her bow;
But in the sky of sorrow,
Over the vale of woe. Through gloom and shadow look we
On beyond the years!
The soul would have no rainbow
Had the eyes no tears.

Eleanor Farjeon photo

“He could not be captured,
He could not be bought,
His running was rhythm,
His standing was thought;
With one eye on sorrow
And one eye on mirth,
He galloped in heaven
And gambolled on earth.”

Eleanor Farjeon (1881–1965) English children's writer

Pegasus, St. 3 & 4, p. 181
The New Book of Days (1961)
Context: He could not be captured,
He could not be bought,
His running was rhythm,
His standing was thought;
With one eye on sorrow
And one eye on mirth,
He galloped in heaven
And gambolled on earth. And only the poet
With wings to his brain
Can mount him and ride him
Without any rein,
The stallion of heaven,
The steed of the skies,
The horse of the singer
Who sings as he flies.

Julian of Norwich photo

“It is God’s will that we have three things in our seeking: — The first is that we seek earnestly and diligently, without sloth, and, as it may be through His grace, without unreasonable heaviness and vain sorrow.”

Julian of Norwich (1342–1416) English theologian and anchoress

The Second Revelation, Chapter 10
Context: It is God’s will that we have three things in our seeking: — The first is that we seek earnestly and diligently, without sloth, and, as it may be through His grace, without unreasonable heaviness and vain sorrow. The second is, that we abide Him steadfastly for His love, without murmuring and striving against Him, to our life’s end: for it shall last but awhile. The third is that we trust in Him mightily of full assured faith. For it is His will that we know that He shall appear suddenly and blissfully to all that love Him.
For His working is privy, and He willeth to be perceived; and His appearing shall be swiftly sudden; and He willeth to be trusted. For He is full gracious and homely: Blessed may He be!

Celia Thaxter photo

“The voices of winter's sorrow
Already we can hear.And we know that the frosts will find us,
And the smiling skies grow rude,
While we look in the face of Beauty,
And worship her every mood.”

Celia Thaxter (1835–1894) American writer

"Already" in Drift-Weed (1878), p. 103.
Context: O brief, bright smile of summer!
O days divine and dear
The voices of winter's sorrow
Already we can hear.And we know that the frosts will find us,
And the smiling skies grow rude,
While we look in the face of Beauty,
And worship her every mood.

Ashoka photo

“My only intention is that they live without fear of me, that they may trust me and that I may give them happiness, not sorrow. Furthermore, they should understand that the king will forgive those who can be forgiven, and that he wishes to encourage them to practice Dhamma so that they may attain happiness in this world and the next.”

Ashoka (-304–-232 BC) Indian emperor of the Maurya Dynasty

Edicts of Ashoka (c. 257 BC)
Context: The people of the unconquered territories beyond the borders might think: "What is the king's intentions towards us?" My only intention is that they live without fear of me, that they may trust me and that I may give them happiness, not sorrow. Furthermore, they should understand that the king will forgive those who can be forgiven, and that he wishes to encourage them to practice Dhamma so that they may attain happiness in this world and the next. I am telling you this so that I may discharge the debts I owe, and that in instructing you, that you may know that my vow and my promise will not be broken. Therefore acting in this way, you should perform your duties and assure them (the people beyond the borders) that: "The king is like a father. He feels towards us as he feels towards himself. We are to him like his own children."

Alfred, Lord Tennyson photo
David Lynch photo

“Anger and depression and sorrow are beautiful things in a story, but they are like poison to the filmmaker or artist.”

Suffocating Rubber Clown Suit, p. 8
Catching the Big Fish (2006)
Context: When I started meditating, I was filled with anxieties and fears. I felt a sense of depression and anger.
I often took out this anger on my first wife. After I had been meditating for about two weeks, she came to me and said, "What's going on?" I was quiet for a moment. But finally I said, "What do you mean?" And she said, "This anger, where did it go?" And I hadn't even realized that it had lifted.
I call that depression and anger the Suffocating Rubber Clown Suit of Negativity. It's suffocating, and that rubber stinks. But once you start meditating and diving within, the clown suit starts to dissolve. You finally realize how putrid was the stink when it starts to go. Then, when it dissolves, you have freedom.
Anger and depression and sorrow are beautiful things in a story, but they are like poison to the filmmaker or artist. They are like a vise grip on creativity. If you're in that grip, you can hardly get out of bed, much less experience the flow of creativity and ideas. You must have clarity to create. You have to be able to catch ideas.

Anatole France photo

“The elect saw with ravishment the Most High precipitated into Hell, and Satan seated on the throne of the Lord. In conformity with the will of God which had cut them off from sorrow they sang in the ancient fashion the praises of their new Master.”

Source: The Revolt of the Angels (1914), Ch. XXXV
Context: The following day, on the ethereal plain, Satan commanded the black standards to be distributed to the troops, and the winged soldiers covered them with kisses and bedewed them with tears.
And Satan had himself crowned God. Thronging round the glittering walls of Heavenly Jerusalem, apostles, pontiffs, virgins, martyrs, confessors, the whole company of the elect, who during the fierce battle had enjoyed delightful tranquillity, tasted infinite joy in the spectacle of the coronation.
The elect saw with ravishment the Most High precipitated into Hell, and Satan seated on the throne of the Lord. In conformity with the will of God which had cut them off from sorrow they sang in the ancient fashion the praises of their new Master.

Robert G. Ingersoll photo

“Around this sacred word cluster the joys and sorrows, the agonies and ecstasies, of the human race. The mother walks in the shadow of death that she may give another life.”

Robert G. Ingersoll (1833–1899) Union United States Army officer

Is Divorce Wrong? (1889)
Context: To me, the tenderest word in our language, the most pathetic fact within our knowledge, is maternity. Around this sacred word cluster the joys and sorrows, the agonies and ecstasies, of the human race. The mother walks in the shadow of death that she may give another life. Upon the altar of love she puts her own life in pawn. When the world is civilized, no wife will become a mother against her will.

George William Russell photo

“When I first discovered for myself how near was the King in His beauty I thought I would be the singer of the happiest songs. Forgive me, Spirit of my spirit, for this, that I have found it easier to read the mystery told in tears and understood Thee better in sorrow than in joy; that, though I would not, I have made the way seem thorny, and have wandered in too many byways, imagining myself into moods which held Thee not.”

George William Russell (1867–1935) Irish writer, editor, critic, poet, and artistic painter

Preface to Collected Poems (1913)
Context: When I first discovered for myself how near was the King in His beauty I thought I would be the singer of the happiest songs. Forgive me, Spirit of my spirit, for this, that I have found it easier to read the mystery told in tears and understood Thee better in sorrow than in joy; that, though I would not, I have made the way seem thorny, and have wandered in too many byways, imagining myself into moods which held Thee not. I should have parted the true from the false, but I have not yet passed away from myself who am in the words of this book. Time is a swift winnower, and that he will do quickly for me.