Above all things let us never forget that mankind constitutes one great brotherhood; all born to encounter suffering and sorrow, and therefore bound to sympathize with each other.
Do not make best friends with a melancholy sad soul. They always are heavily loaded, and you must bear half.
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
One must not let oneself be overwhelmed by sadness.
Actually, the moment of victory is wonderful, but also sad. It means that your trip is ended.
We’re taught to be ashamed of confusion, anger, fear and sadness, and to me they’re of equal value to happiness, excitement and inspiration.
For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.
Participate joyfully in the sorrows of the world. We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy.
Your joys and sorrows. You can never tell them. You cheapen the inside of yourself if you do tell them.
My parents’ divorce left me with a lot of sadness and pain and acting, and especially humour, was my way of dealing with all that.
We never taste happiness in perfection, our most fortunate successes are mixed with sadness.
Tears are nature’s lotion for the eyes. The eyes see better for being washed by them.
In deep sadness there is no place for sentimentality.
The keenest sorrow is to recognize ourselves as the sole cause of all our adversities.
I love my past, I love my present. I am not ashamed of what I have had, and I am not sad because I no longer have it.
They say it’s better to bury your sadness in a graveyard or garden that waits for the spring to wake from its sleep and burst into green.
I’ve cried, and you’d think I’d be better for it, but the sadness just sleeps, and it stays in my spine the rest of my life.
Everything’s complicated, even those things that seem flat in their bleakness or sadness.
It is sadder to find the past again and find it inadequate to the present than it is to have it elude you and remain forever a harmonious conception of memory.
The excursion is the same when you go looking for your sorrow as when you go looking for your joy.
You left and I cried tears of blood. My sorrow grows. Its not just that You left. But when You left my eyes went with You. Now, how will I cry?
Why does the rest of the world put up with the hypocrisy, the need to put a happy face on sorrow, the need to keep on keeping on?… I don’t know the answer, I know only that I can’t.
We never taste a perfect joy; our happiest successes are mixed with sadness.
I can see the humorous side of things and enjoy the fun when it comes; but look where I will, there seems to me always more sadness than joy in life.
Isn’t it sad to go to your grave without ever wondering why you were born? Who, with such a thought, would not spring from bed, eager to resume discovering the world and rejoicing to be part of it?
