Quotes on Tears

PRICE, n. Value, plus a reasonable sum for the wear and tear of conscience in demanding it.

"I have not made any arrogant, confident, boasting predictions at all. On the contrary, I have stuck hard to my "blood, toil, tears and sweat," to which I have added muddle and mismanagement, and that, to some extend I must admit, is what you have got out of it."

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?

When I travel around the world, I see that poor countries sell their grain to the West while their own children starve in their arms. And we feed it to livestock. So we can eat a steak? Am I the only one who sees this as a crime? Every morsel of meat we eat is slapping the tear-stained face of a starving child. When I look into her eyes, should I be silent? The Earth can produce enough for everyone’s need. But not enough for everyone’s greed.

The Taj Mahal rises above the banks of the river like a solitary tear suspended on the cheek of time.

Tear off the mask. Your face is glorious

There comes a holy _x000D_ and transparent time _x000D_ when every touch _x000D_ of beauty _x000D_ opens the heart _x000D_ to tears. _x000D_ This is the time _x000D_ the Beloved of heaven _x000D_ is brought tenderly on earth. _x000D_ This is the time _x000D_ of the opening _x000D_ of the ROSE.

Friends of mine said later that they had been riveted by a postgame television close-up of Wade Boggs, sitting alone in the dugout with tears streaming down his face …. I suppose we should all try to find something better or worse to shed tears for than a game, no matter how hard it has been played, but perhaps it is not such a bad thing to see that men can cry at all.

That's the trouble with cookbooks. Like sex education and nuclear physics, they are founded on an illusion. They bespeak order, but they end in tears.

My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,_x000D_ _x000D_ My tears like vinegar,_x000D_ _x000D_ Or the bitter blinking yellow_x000D_ _x000D_ Of an acetic star._x000D_ _x000D_ Tonight the caustic wind, love,_x000D_ _x000D_ Gossips late and soon,_x000D_ _x000D_ And I wear the wry-faced pucker of_x000D_ _x000D_ The sour lemon moon._x000D_ _x000D_ While like an early summer plum,_x000D_ _x000D_ Puny, green, and tart,_x000D_ _x000D_ Droops upon its wizened stem_x000D_ _x000D_ My lean, unripened heart.

This is the role of writers: to turn their tears into a story - and perhaps into a prayer.

When we come upon beautiful things they act like small tears in the surface of the world that pull us through to some vaster space.

Old April wanes, and her last dewy morn Her death-bed steeps in tears; to hail the May New blooming blossoms neath the sun are born, And all poor April's charms are swept away.

When it seems like the night will last forever,_x000D_ _x000D_ And there's nothing left to do but count the years, _x000D_ _x000D_ When the strings of my harp to sever, _x000D_ _x000D_ And stones fall from my eyes instead of tears... _x000D_ _x000D_ I will walk alone by the black muddy river, _x000D_ _x000D_ And dream me a dream of my own, _x000D_ _x000D_ I will walk alone by the black muddy river,_x000D_ _x000D_ And sing me a song of my own.

Love is understood, in a historical way, as one of the great human vocations - but its counterspell has always been infidelity. This terrible, terrible betrayal that can tear apart not only another person, not only oneself, but whole families.

What shall I say of the gallantry with which these Marines have fought! Of the slopes of Hill 142; of the Mares Farm; of the Bois de Belleau and the Village of Bouresches stained with their blood, and not only taken away from the Germans in the full tide of their advance against the French, but held by my boys against counter attacks day after day and night after night. I cannot write of their splendid gallantry without tears coming to my eyes.

Fashion fosters cliches of beauty, but I want to tear them apart.

The reality of truth is not to be bought, to be sold, to be repeated; it cannot be caught in books. It has to be found from moment to moment, in the smile, in the tear, under the dead leaf, in the vagrant thought, in the fullness of love.

Him who is dead and gone honor with remembrance, not with tears.

Where sin was hatch'd, let tears now wash the nest, Where life was lost, recover life with cries.

Recovery isn’t easy, at first. It takes time. It takes more work, sometimes, than you think you’re willing to do. But it is worth every hard day, every tear, every terrified moment. It’s worth it, because the trade-off is this: you let go of your eating disorder, and you get back your life.