Hidden sorrow Quotes

I find I have to be the sad clown: laughing on the outside, crying on the inside.

I hide hurt behind a fake smile. I wear it all the time. Everyone says how I always look so cheerful. Shows what they know I guess.

What uniform can I wear to hide my heavy heart? It is too heavy. It will always show. Jacques felt himself growing gloomy again. He was well aware that to live on earth a man must follow its fashions, and hearts were no longer worn.

It is those who make the least display of their sorrow who mourn the deepest.

...[P]eople who shout joy from the rooftops are often the saddest of all... (p.24)

They leave things behind sometimes, the guests. A bottle of scent. A crumpled handkerchief. A pearl button that fell off a dress and rolled under a bed. And sometimes they leave other sorts of things. Things you can't see. A sigh trapped in a corner. Memories tangled in the curtains. A sob fluttering against the windowpane like a bird that flew in and can't get back out. I can feel these things. They dart and crouch and whisper.

Behind Joy and Laughter there may be a temperament, coarse, hard and callous. But behind Sorrow there is always Sorrow. Pain, unlike Pleasure, wears no mask.

All are not merry that dance lightly.

I was observing her closely as I talked, and after a while I began to get the impression that she was not, in fact, quite so merry and smiling a girl as I had been led to believe at first. She seemed to be coiled in herself, as though with a secret she was jealously guarding. The deep-blue eyes moved too quickly about the room, never settling or resting on one thing for more than a moment; and over all her face, though so faint that they might not even have been there, those small downward lines of sorrow.

Everybody's wearing a disguise, to hide what they've got left behind their eyes.

Time engraves our faces with all the tears we have not shed.

In the first place, [his eyes] never laughed when he laughed. Have you ever noticed this peculiarity some people have? It is either the sign of an evil nature or of a profound and lasting sorrow.

There's some sad things known to man, but ain't too much sadder than, the tears of a clown when noones around.

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.

This sadness wasn't a huge part of me--I wasn't remotely depressed--but still, it was like a stone I carried in my pocket. I always knew it was there. [p. 179]

I would rather feel the hurt inside, yes I would darling, than know the emptiness that your heart must hide.

The saddest kind of sad is the sad that tries not to be sad. You know, when sad tries to bite its lip and not cry, and smile and say, "No I'm happy for you"? Thats when it's really sad.

Do tears not yet spilled wait in small lakes?

It seems to me, Monsieur, that there is nothing more galling in great physical misfortunes than to be compelled to make all those about us share in our sufferings. The ills of the soul one can hide, but those which attack the body and destroy the faculties cannot be concealed.

Even though I am smiling, I have some suffering in my heart.

My tears are buried in my heart, like cave-locked fountains sleeping.

Added to their loveliness was a new mysterious suffering, perfectly silent, visible in the blue puffiness beneath their eyes or the way they would sometimes stop in mid-stride, look down, and shake their heads as though disagreeing with life.

She is so lost in her sadness that she has no idea how visible it is.

Alone, he must bear the weight of a sin he dare not confess to the one person he loves…and has lost.