Robert Tressell - Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumachais - John 11:50 - Gustave Flaubert - Lemony Snicket - Sarah Ockler - Charles Bukowski - Ovid - Allen Ginsberg - Anne Bronte - Oscar Wilde - Ella Wheeler Wilcox - Lord Byron - Abu’l-Ala-Al-Ma’arri -
He paid the money at once; half an hour afterwards the van came to take the things away, and when they were gone, Mary sank down on the hearthrug in the wrecked room and sobbed as if her heart would break. Robert Tressell, The Ragged Trousered Philanthropist
I hurry to laugh at everything, for fear of having to weep at it. Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumachais, 1732-1799, Le Babier de Seville
Jesus wept. John 11:50
He was bored now when Emma suddenly began to sob on his breast; and his heart, like the people who can only stand a certain amount of music, became drowsy through indifference to the vibrations of a love whose subtleties he could no longer distinguish. Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary
You know that a good, long session of weeping can often make you feel better, even if your circumstances have not changed one bit. Lemony Snicket, The Bad Beginning
Weeping is not the same thing as crying. It takes your whole body to weep, and when it’s over, you feel like you don’t have any bones left to hold you up. Sarah Ockler, Twenty Boy Summer
I drive around the streets
an inch away from weeping,
ashamed of my sentimentality and
possible love. Charles Bukowski, Love is a Dog from Hell
I wish to weep
but sorrow is
stupid.
I wish to believe
but belief is a
graveyard. Charles Bukowski, What Matters Most is How Well You Walk Through the Fire
There is a certain pleasure in weeping. Ovid
No more to say, and nothing to weep for. Allen Ginsberg
Oh, I am very weary,
Though tears no longer flow;
My eyes are tired of weeping,
My heart is sick of woe. Anne Bronte
He must have a truly romantic nature, for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about. Oscar Wilde
Laugh and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own. Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Solitude
And if I laugh at any mortal thing,
’Tis that I may not weep. Lord Byron, Don Juan
We laugh, but inept is our laughter;
We should weep and weep sore,
Who are shattered like glass, and thereafter
Remoulded no more. Abu’l-Ala-Al-Ma’arri