The depth of the feeling continued to surprise and threaten me, but each time it hit again and I bore it...I would discover that it hadn't washed me away.
Cares that have entered once in the breast, will have whole possession of the rest.
To Sorrow I bade good-morrow, And thought to leave her far away behind; But cheerly, cheerly, She loves me dearly: She is so constant to me, and so kind.
We passed over in a sweep of sorrow that would persist into our small forever. We just keep going.
Time heals all wounds. But not this one. Not yet.
Forgetfulness of grief I yet may gain;In some wise may come ending to my pain;It may be yet the Gods will have me glad!Yet, Love, I would that thee and pain I had!
Tears may be dried up, but the heart - never.
What does your sorrow do while you sleep? -It’s awake and waiting. And when it loses patience, it wakes me up.
There are disappointments which wring us, and there are those which inflict a wound whose mark we bear to our graves. Such are so keen that no future gratification of the same desire can ever obliterate them: they become registered as a permanent loss of happiness.
