Jem Crying Quotes

But it turned out life was more like the kind of song the Stones wrote: you didn't get any satisfaction, you took one hit to the body after another, if you were a woman you were a bitch who belonged under someone's thumb, and if you wanted mother's little helper from your dear doctor you better have the silver, take it or leave it, and don't come crying for sympathy, that was just for the devil. ~ Joe Hill

We cannot always cry at the right time
and who is to say which time is right? ~ Madeleine L'Engle

You thought you'd never see me again. You loooove me and you miiiissed me. You--Holy hell. Are those tears? Are you crying?"

"I just have something in my eye."

"You're right. No tears here, either. Definitely the rain. It's really wet out here. ~ Elizabeth May

And later my macabre joy sours and I'm weeping for myself, unable to find solace in any of this, crying out, sobbing, "I just want to be loved," cursing the earth and everything I have been taught: principles, distinctions, choices, morals, compromises, knowledge, unity, prayer - all of it was wrong, without any final purpose. ~ Bret Easton Ellis

I'll give you all the promises you want, India. As long as you're naked and crying underneath me."

God. This man. ~ V. Theia

Then forget Gabriel. Is there a particular reason you keep biting vampires?"
Will touched the dried blood on his wrists and smiled. "They don't expect it."
"Of course they don't. They know what happens when one of us consumes vampire blood. They probably expect you to have more sense."
"That expectation never seems to serve them very well, does it?"
"It hardly serves you, either. ~ Cassandra Clare

Will's voice dropped. "Everyone makes mistakes, Jem."
"Yes," said Jem. "You just make more of them than most people."
"I - "
"You hurt everyone," said Jem. "Everyone whose life you touch."
"Not you," Will whispered. "I hurt everyone but you. I never meant to
hurt you."
Jem put his hands up, pressing his palms against his eyes. "Will - "
"You can't never forgive me," Will said in disbelief, hearing the
panic tinging his own voice. "I'd be - "
"Alone?" Jem lowered his hand, but he was smiling now, crookedly. "And
whose fault is that? ~ Cassandra Clare

My parents didn't give me any scope to feel sorry for myself. They were just like 'go play with your brother, go climb a tree, go fall off your motorbike, do whatever you want. Don't come crying to us when you get scratched. You've got prosthetic legs - that's very nice.' ~ Oscar Pistorius

Crying is not a weakness. It's something that should be able to work for you. It should also be a strength. I think if you can cry when you feel like crying it's a strength. If you feel like crying and you can't cry, that's a weakness. That means you're holding all that stuff inside. ~ Grace Jones

My dad was one of those dads that would make me stop crying by threatening to beat me. ~ Felipe Esparza

In Britain we have a very powerful tabloid culture with celebrities on the front page crying with their make-up smeared and tears, and it's kind of what you'd expect from someone who likes to dress up that way. ~ Eddie Izzard

Did Mama leave you all alone in here?"

I picked her up out of bed and rubbed her back for a minute while she hiccuped.

"Daddy's here," I murmured against her bald head, rocking her from side to side. "Let's get that wet diaper off you."

I laid her on the bed and grabbed a diaper from the top of Kate's dresser, talking the whole time. "I don't know what your mommy was thinking, leaving my princess in here all alone," I crooned, my voice somehow keeping Iris calm. "She's outside with your brothers and sister and Daddy's friend Miles. He's a jackass. You stay away from him, okay?"

I smiled as Iris froze, like she was listening intently.

"Daddy was not very nice," I said, pulling her little pants down her legs and unbuttoning her onesie. "I wasn't even there when you were born, and I'm really sorry about that. But your mama came home with me anyway, so that means there's a chance, right? As long as Miles keeps his you-know-what in this pants."

Iris lifted her hand to her face and tried really hard to get it to her mouth, her eyes unfocused as I babbled.

"You're doing so good, princess. Look at you, not even crying while I change you. Such a big girl." I finished re-dressing her and pulled her to my chest. "You think your mama could love me again?" I asked, kissing her little cheek. "Probably not, huh? We'll just have to keep working at it so you can live with Daddy forever. ~ Nicole Jacquelyn

I was really crying the morning after the indication. However I am over that now. Nevertheless, I am proud for it to be in the Rock and Roll hall of fame. But I've got two copies of the guitar now, to remind of the original Teardrop. ~ Dave Wakeling

The dominant literary mode of the twentieth century has been the fantastic. This may appear a surprising claim, which would not have seemed even remotely
conceivable at the start of the century and which is bound to encounter fierce resistance even now. However, when the time comes to look back at the century, it seems very likely that future literary historians, detached from the squabbles of our present, will see as its most representative and distinctive works books like J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, and also George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four and Animal Farm, William Golding's Lord of the Flies and The Inheritors, Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five and Cat's Cradle, Ursula Le Guin's The Left Hand of Darkness and The Dispossessed, Thomas Pynchon's The Crying of Lot-49 and Gravity's Rainbow. The list could readily be extended, back to the late nineteenth century with H.G. Wells's The Island of Dr Moreau and The War of the Worlds, and up to writers currently active like Stephen R. Donaldson and George R.R. Martin. It could take in authors as different, not to say opposed, as Kingsley and Martin Amis, Anthony Burgess, Stephen King, Terry Pratchett, Don DeLillo, and Julian Barnes. By the end of the century, even authors deeply committed to the realist novel have often found themselves unable to resist the gravitational pull of the fantastic as a literary mode.

This is not the same, one should note, as fantasy as a literary genre – of the authors l ~ Tom Shippey

She sniffed loudly. "I'm not crying. My eyes are watering. You smell awful."

"What? I never smell awful. I smell like sandalwood and masculine allure." He lifted his head to smell himself, and gagged. "Never mind."

"Perhaps you might consider not setting yourself on fire next time, Master," Silas said, pointedly. ~ Margaret Rogerson

Her brother is crying, he is wretched and broken. Though his sobs are barely audible, he is weeping with absolute and total abandon. Such a naked display of emotion is both alarming and frightening. ~ Julia Hoban

And inside, inside I feel a dark chasm. And its getting wider, deeper. It's breaking my heart apart more and more. The chasm is filling up. Filling up with gallons and gallons tears. Tears that were unshed, but piled up. And the endless supply of hurt, anger, and sadness grew and grew. And now its going to burst out. The tears will empty from the chasm, and fall out as a stream from my blood shot eyes. And the chasm will expand, and expand and it will be too much for my small heart that can only take so much. And my heart will crack in two. But no one will know. No one will know the about the expanding chasms, or the gallons of tears, because I will appear fine on the outside. I will keep pretending. Even though inside I'm crying, and I'm breaking in two. ~ Runaway Bunny

Those who do not weep, do not see. ~ Victor Hugo

Relationships matter. They matter as much as exercise and nutrition. And not all relationships help us reach our goals. God doesn't give us crying, pooping children because he wants to advance our careers. He gives them to us for the same reason he confused language at the Tower of Babel, to create chaos and deter us from investing too much energy in the gluttonous idols of self-absorption. ~ Donald Miller

I just wanted to say something about him, to shoot his spirit out over the airwaves and see what it will do. Maybe he'll come to one of you and give you something you need. Help you get rid of the blues, or keep the sun from catching you crying. A lot of you believe in ghosts. I've heard you say so. ~ Natalie Standiford

Every promise we kept, every squeeze of the hand, every secretive smile we exchanged, every crying child we comforted- every one of those moments narrowed the distance between us. ~ Nadia Hashimi

It was ridiculous, at times, how many tears one body could produce. ~ Aimee Bender

For a moment, she thought she was crying too. But then she realised she was just humming.
Finally, she could hear the farm.
A snippet of a song played in her head. One of the songs she always heard blasting over the farm's loudspeakers. A song about summer days under the sun. She could really hear it. She could feel the warm, sultry air on her skin, and she wasn't cold anymore.
The air was always yellow at the farm.
Golden yellow. ~ Anni Taylor

Alric! Stop it!" Pickering snapped at him. "You mustn't let the men see you crying!"
Fury flared in Alric, and he spun on the count. "No? No? Look at them! They are dying for me. They are dying on my order! I say they do have a right to see their king! They all have a right to see their king!"
Alric wiped the tears from his cheeks and gathered his reins. "I'm tired of this. I'm tired of having my face put in the dirt! I won't stand it. I'm tired of being helpless. That's my city, built by my ancestors! If my people chose to fight, then, by Maribor, I want them to know it's me they fight!"
The prince put on his helm, drew his father's large sword and spurred his horse forward, not at the trench but at the castle gate itself. ~ Michael J. Sullivan

In the twilight glow I see her, blue eyes crying in the rain. As we kissed goodbye and parted, I knew we'd never meet again. ~ Willie Nelson

When men cry, real men, we cry Man Tears. Those are tears made up of actual meat. We basically cry pork chops and steaks. Imagine a steak tearing its way out of your eye. It hurts like hell, which causes more tears. It's a vicious cycle ~ Larry Gent

Sometimes, breaking down is the bravest thing you can do. ~ Vironika Tugaleva

Reality sucks, that's probably why we dream. Why our bodies need sleep. So we can escape. Escape this earth, at least just for a little while. Everynight, we get to go away. Sleep is the only time I feel safe. The only time I can leave this place. This reality that feels like needles sticking into my flesh. This hell that is so hot it makes my hair sweat. Makes mymind melt. In my sleep I hear music, I see faces, songs and smiles and dad hugging me tight. Never letting me go. Telling me to be strong. Telling me not to give up hope. Sometimes I wake up crying. Sometimes I wish I didn't wake up at all - jamie adoff ~ Jamie Adoff

It was easy to conjure him up this morning, when everything was quiet and still. A little, ginger-bearded man; she had been taller than him by half a head. She had never felt the slightest physical attraction towards him. 'What was love, after all?' thought Parminder, as a gentle breeze ruffled the tall hedge of leyland cypresses that enclosed the Jawandas' big
back lawn. Was it love when somebody filled a space in your life that yawned inside you, once they had gone?
'I did love laughing', thought Parminder. 'I really miss laughing.'
And it was the memory of laughter that, at last, made the tears flow from her eyes. They trickled down her nose and into her coffee, where they made little bullet
holes, swiftly erased. She was crying because she never seemed to laugh any
more ( ... ). ~ J.K. Rowling

All you will have is the present. Waste no energy crying over yesterday or dreaming of tomorrow. Nostalgia is fatiguing and destructive, it is the vice of the expatriate. You must put down roots as if they were forever, you must have a sense of permanence. ~ Isabel Allende

The nappies, the sleepless nights, the endless crying, the love like you've never imagined was possible, like your heart is living on the outside of your body? The chaos and the fear and the pride and the chance to tuck someone in and read them to sleep? To do all of that with you? I couldn't be more sure. ~ Cassandra Clare

Elvis a fight the dying light, Johnny Ray he's always crying. ~ Billy Idol

She was surprised to find that something from deep down in herself welled into her eyes and burned her cheeks: a few poor tears shed by one who never cried! ~ Francois Mauriac

This is like the end of The Corrections," I say and the problem with books is that they end. They seduce you. They spread their legs to you and pull you inside. And you go deep and leave your possessions and your ties to the world at the door and you like it inside and you don't want for your possessions or your ties and then, the book evaporates. You turn the page and there is nothing and we are both crying. ~ Caroline Kepnes

When I was a model, I started with an opinion, but was encouraged to lose it. It began as play-acting, but then I lost sight of myself a bit: so when I did the audition for 'Popworld' and they asked my opinion, I felt like crying with happiness. ~ Alexa Chung

Vexed with herself, Cassandra took a handkerchief from the congealed pocket of her dress and pressed it hard over a new trickle of tears. After a minute or two had passed, she became aware of someone ascending the stairs in a measured tread.
Embarrassed to be caught crying on the steps like a lost child, Cassandra struggled to rise.
A low voice stopped her. "No... please. I only wanted to give you this."
Through a blur, she saw the dark form of Tom Severin, who had come to stand a step below her, with two glasses of iced champagne in his hands. He extended one to her.
Cassandra began to reach for it, but hesitated. "I'm not supposed to have champagne unless it's mixed with punch."
One corner of his wide mouth tipped upward. "I won't tell."
Cassandra took the glass gratefully, and drank. The cold fizz was wonderful, easing the dry tightness of her throat.
"Thank you," she murmured. ~ Lisa Kleypas

And he isn't crying for her, not for his grandma, he's crying for himself: that he: too, is going to die one day. And before that his friends wil die, and the friends of his friends, and, as time passes, the children of his friends, and, if his fate is truly bitter, his own children. (58) ~ Nicole Krauss

She liked being reminded of butterflies. She remembered being six or seven and crying over the fates of the butterflies in her yard after learning that they lived for only a few days. Her mother had comforted her and told her not to be sad for the butterflies, that just because their lives were short didn't mean they were tragic. Watching them flying in the warm sun among the daisies in their garden, her mother had said to her, see, they have a beautiful life. Alice liked remembering that. ~ Lisa Genova

He'll be cross if he sees I have been crying. They don't like you to cry. He doesn't cry. I wish to God I could make him cry. I wish I could make him cry and tread the floor and feel his heart heavy and big and festering in him. I wish I could hurt him like hell.
He doesn't wish that about me. I don't think he even knows how he makes me feel. I wish he could know, without my telling him. They don't like you to tell them they've made you cry. They don't like you to tell them you're unhappy because of them. If you do, they think you're possessive and exacting. And then they hate you. They hate you whenever you say anything you really think. You always have to keep playing little games. Oh, I thought we didn't have to; I thought this was so big I could say whatever I meant. I guess you can't, ever. I guess there isn't ever anything big enough for that. ~ Dorothy Parker

She was showing me her treasures, Sophie
her eyes did not leave my face once. We were both so solemn, and I, for once, didn't start crying; I just held out my arms. She climbed right into them and under the covers with me
and went sound asleep. ~ Mary Ann Shaffer