River Of Tears Quotes

O world, world when I was younger I thought there was some order governing you and your deeds. But now you seem to be a labyrinth of errors, a frightful desert, a den of wild beasts, a game in which men move in circles ... a stony field, a meadow full of serpents, a flowering but barren orchard, a spring of cares, a river of tears, a sea of suffering, a vain hope. ~ Fernando De Rojas

My joy is like Spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.
My pain is like a river of tears,
so vast it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one. ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

I cried a river of tears but he was too heavy to float on them. So I dragged him with me these years across an ocean. ~ August Wilson

Do not cast your boat on a river of tears, cried the tearing wind. Small hands are still, be still. She knelt then lay on her side, clutching a key, accepting kindness of endless sleep. ~ Patti Smith

up and walked slowly to the mirror, and then she stood there with a broad smile, and a narrow river of tears gleaming on her face. He stood behind her, at a good distance. He wanted to leave her alone. This was her moment. "Oh God, Peter, it's beautiful." He laughed softly. "Not 'it's' beautiful, silly girl. You're beautiful. It is you, ~ Danielle Steel

I have been waiting for you for so long."
I pointed to the car. "We are searching for Trachimbrod."
"Oh," she said and she released a river of tears. "You are here. I am it. ~ Jonathan Safran Foer

When a river of tears and a load of grief keep on flowing from a mountain of broken trust, feelings may relentlessly besiege the stronghold of our flesh. Only a timely adjustment with our mental compass can shore up confidence, resilience; and reliance. ("Taken for a ride") ~ Erik Pevernagie

Even when a river of tears courses through this body, the flame of love cannot be quenched. ~ Izumi Shikibu

the "bystander effect": the more people around to provide help, the less likely one is to receive help. Dad hypothesized that this didn't apply to black people, a loving race whose very survival has been dependent on helping one another in times of need. So he made me stand on the busiest intersection in the neighborhood, dollar bills bursting from my pockets, the latest and shiniest electronic gadgetry jammed into my ear canals, a hip-hop heavy gold chain hanging from my neck, and, inexplicably, a set of custom-made carpeted Honda Civic floor mats draped over my forearm like a waiter's towel, and as tears streamed from my eyes, my own father mugged me. He ~ Paul Beatty

The first arrow struck Semian in the leg, just above the knee. Semian howled, staggered and fell back into the water. The second arrow struck one of the other riders in the back. The third arrow hit the wounded dragon in the neck, which only made it hiss and snap. Kemir didn't stop to fire a fourth; instead he jogged a little deeper into the forest and then turned and followed the path of the river. The knights wouldn't follow him into the trees, he was quite sure of that, and the dragons would never find him in the dark. Not killing Rider Semian, he discovered, was immensely satisfying. Killing him was something he could do only once. He smiled to himself. ~ Stephen Deas

Out of the cradle endlessly rocking,
Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle,
Out of the Ninth-month midnight,
Over the sterile sands, and the fields beyond, where the child, leaving his bed, wander'd
alone, bare-headed, barefoot,
Down from the shower'd halo,
Up from the mystic play of shadows, twining and twisting as if they were alive,
Out from the patches of briers and blackberries,
From the memories of the bird that chanted to me,
From your memories, sad brother - from the fitful risings and fallings I heard,
From under that yellow half-moon, late-risen, and swollen as if with tears,
From those beginning notes of sickness and love, there in the transparent mist,
From the thousand responses of my heart, never to cease,
From the myriad thence-arous'd words,
From the word stronger and more delicious than any,
From such, as now they start, the scene revisiting,
As a flock, twittering, rising, or overhead passing,
Borne hither - ere all eludes me, hurriedly,
A man - yet by these tears a little boy again,
Throwing myself on the sand, confronting the waves,
I, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and hereafter,
Taking all hints to use them - but swiftly leaping beyond them,
A reminiscence sing. ~ Walt Whitman

He who sows, even with tears, the precious seed of faith, hope, and love, shall doubtless come again with joy, bringing his sheaves with him, because it is the very nature of that seed to yield a joyful harvest. ~ Richard Cecil

My blood was in a ferment within me, my heart was full of longing, sweetly and foolishly; I was all expectancy and wonder; I was tremulous and waiting; my fancy fluttered and circled about the same images like martins round a bell-tower at dawn; I dreamed and was sad and sometimes cried. But through the tears and the melancholy, inspired by the music of verse or the beauty of the evening, there always rose upwards, like the grasses of early spring, shoots of happy feeling, of young and surging life. ~ Ivan Turgenev

I can't think of anything that brings me closer to tears than when my old dog - completely exhausted after a hard day in the field - limps away from her nice spot in front of the fire and comes over to where I'm sitting and puts her head in my lap, a paw over my knee, and closes her eyes, and goes back to sleep. I don't know what I've done to deserve that kind of friend. ~ Gene Hill

There were moments when you saw the people you loved for who they really were, separate from the baggage of projection and shared histories. When you saw them with fresh eyes, as a stranger might, and caught the feeling of the first time you loved them. Before the tears and the armor chinks. When there was still the possibility of perfection. ~ Blake Crouch

I envy the table its scars, the scorch marks caused by the hot bread tins. I envy its calm sense of time, and I wish I could say: I did this five years ago. I made this mark, this ring caused by a wet coffee cup, this cigarette burn, this ladder of cuts against the wood's coarse grain. This is where Anouk carved her initials, the year she was six years old, this secret place behind the table leg. I did this on a warm day seven summers ago with the carving knife. Do you remember? Do you remember the summer the river ran dry? Do you remember? I envy the table's calm sense of place. It has been here a long time. It belongs. ~ Joanne Harris

This is how my day usually goes.
I leave the faucet open and know what it's like
to have my fingers around a minuscule whirlpool,
and I cry, hoping if I do it for hours
the water will end up tasting like the ocean,
just so I could get myself half-drowning.
I don't know how to float on water.
This is the closest thing I will ever get to breathing
without forcing my lungs to turn into a garbage truck,
or a car alarm, or anything that can get my neighbors
out of their doors. Maybe if I blink my eyes
as fast as I can, I will end up having lightning
for tears because that's how much they hurt.
There is the constant banging on my door.
On my bedside table is an empty mug
that was once made with everything close
to tasting like beautiful and patient and calm.
And I am not. I am stepping on my own leash.
my skin has purple circles, my eyes has been spending
too many hours pretending to be an Olympic pool,
when it's too little to even be a sink. Last night,
I realized, the tap water will never taste like tears,
no matter how many hours I spent bending.
The banging on my bedroom door will never stop.
I wonder how long I can keep this up until I remember
that there's always a limit to pain, and none to love. ~ Kharla M. Brillo

Zet and Lottie swam into New York City from the skies - that was how it felt in the Pacemaker, rushing along the Hudson at sunrise. First many blue twigs overhanging the water, than a rosy color, and then the heavy flashing of the river under the morning sun. They were in the dining car, their eyes were heavy. They were drained by a night of broken sleep in the day coach, and they were dazzled. They drank coffee from cups as heavy as soapstone, and poured from New York Central pewter. They were in the East, where everything was better, where objects were different. Here there was deeper meaning in the air.

After changing at Harmon to an electric locomotive, they began a more quick and eager ride. Trees, water, sky, and the sky raced off, floating, and there came bridges, structures, and at last the tunnel, where the air breaks gasped and the streamliner was checked. There were yellow bulbs in wire mesh, and subterranean air came through the vents. The doors opened, the passengers, pulling their clothing straight, flowed out and got their luggage, and Zet and Lottie, reaching Forty-second Street, refugees from arid and inhibited Chicago, from Emptyland, embraced at the curb and kissed each other repeatedly on the mouth. They had come to the World City, where all behavior was deeper and more resonant, where they could freely be themselves, as demonstrative as they liked. Intellect, art, the transcendent, needed no excuses here. Any cabdriver understood, Zet believed ~ Saul Bellow

voice bringing my defenses down. I'd never have expected it a year ago, but now . . . after seeing him lose everything to follow his heart, I could. I could accept his comfort, show my vulnerability - even if it might not last. The undeniable truth was, he was meant for better things than me. One day Ellasbeth would have him, and I'd be left with the memory of who he had wanted to be. "Rachel?" But I'd be damned if I didn't take what I could of the time we had. Catching my tears, I wiped my face, giving Trent a thankful smile as I pulled back and looked for Bis. The little gargoyle had his wings draped around him, looking like a devil himself. "Bis? Can you jump her to Trent's? ~ Kim Harrison

When they reached the top of the hill they turned and looked down at the valley. Moominhouse was just a blue dot, and the river a narrow ribbon of green: the swing they couldn't see at all. "We've never been such a long way from home before," said Moomintroll, and a little goose-fleshy thrill of excitement came over them at the thought. ~ Tove Jansson

They appear in the doorway, holding tea and toast, their faces filled with concern. I open my mouth, planning to start off with some kind of joke, and burst into tears. So much for being strong. ~ Suzanne Collins

Sometimes there are more tears than laughter, and sometimes there is more laughter than tears, and sometimes you feel so choked you can neither weep nor laugh. For tears and laughter there will always be so long as there is human life. When our tear wells have run dry and the voice of laughter is silenced, the world will be truly dead. ~ Lin Yutang

When I put my hands on your body on your flesh I feel the history of that body. Not just the beginning of its forming in that distant lake but all the way beyond its ending. I feel the warmth and texture and simultaneously I see the flesh unwrap from the layers of fat and disappear. I see the fat disappear from the muscle. I see the muscle disappearing from around the organs and detaching iself from the bones. I see the organs gradually fade into transparency leaving a gleaming skeleton gleaming like ivory that slowly resolves until it becomes dust. I am consumed in the sense of your weight the way your flesh occupies momentary space the fullness of it beneath my palms. I am amazed at how perfectly your body fits to the curves of my hands. If I could attach our blood vessels so we could become each other I would. If I could attach our blood vessels in order to anchor you to the earth to this present time I would. If I could open up your body and slip inside your skin and look out your eyes and forever have my lips fused with yours I would. It makes me weep to feel the history of your flesh beneath my hands in a time of so much loss. It makes me weep to feel the movement of your flesh beneath my palms as you twist and turn over to one side to create a series of gestures to reach up around my neck to draw me nearer. All these memories will be lost in time like tears in the rain. ~ David Wojnarowicz

Everything has strings leading to everything else. We're all so tied together. We're all in a net, the net is waiting, and we're pushed into it by one single desire. You want a thing and it's precious to you. Do you know who is standing ready to tear it out of your hands? You can't know, it may be so involved and so far away, but someone is ready, and you're afraid of them all. And you cringe and you crawl and you beg and you accept them
just so they'll let you keep it. And look at whom you come to accept. ~ Ayn Rand

Love is excruciating, especially when you can feel it slipping through your fingers and there is nothing you can do about it. Like someone was playing tug-of-war with my limbs, ripping to shreds whatever was left behind. What it would feel like when love was lost ... I wouldn't survive that. I closed my eyes willing the tears to stay hidden behind my eyelids and focusing on breathing in and out instead of the pain that was ramming in my heart. ~ Julie Hockley

Let us cross over the river, and rest in the shade of the trees. ~ Thomas Jackson

Those from whom we were born have long since departed, and those with whom we grew up exist only in memory. We, too, through the approach of death, become, as it were, trees growing on the sandy bank of a river. ~ Bhartrhari

Ambitions and dreams put you at a drinking table with unexpected companions. Cups were filled and refilled, making you drunk with the illusion of changing the world. ~ Guy Gavriel Kay

Don't you find," he said, "judging from his picture, that his eyes are full of tears and that his lips are sad with a secret sorrow? ~ Joshua Wolf Shenk

Tears are useless things; tiny droplets of salt infused water, insignificant and pitiful. ~ Pippa DaCosta

On a craggy bluff above the majestic Ottawa River stands the remarkable embodiment of our system of governance: Parliament. ~ John Allen Fraser

Do you even realize what you have done?' as Dawn spoke her voice cracked slightly. She wished she could cry and release herself from some of the sadness building up inside her. But her tears never came. ~ Carys Jones

Moses

Come.
When?
Now. This way. I will guide you.
Wait! Not so fast.
Hurry. You. I said you.
Who am I?
Certainly I will be with thee.
Is nothing, then, what it is? I had rather the rod had
stayed a rod and not become a serpent.
Come. Quickly. While the blast of my breath opens the sea.
Stop. I'm thirsty.
Drink water from this rock.
But the rock moves on before us.
Go with it and drink.
I'm tired. Can't you stop for a while?
You have already tarried too long.
But if I am to follow you I must know your name.
I will be that I will be.
You have set the mountain on fire.
Come. Climb.
I will be lost in the terror of your cloud.
You are stiff-necked and of a stiff-necked people.
YOUR poeple, Lord,
Indubitably.
Your wrath waxes hot. I burn.
Thus to become great.
Show me, then, they glory.
No man may see my face and live. But I will cover you with my hand while I pass by.
My people turn away and cry because the skin of my
face shines
Did you not expect this?
I cannot enter the tent of the congregation while your
cloud covers it and your glory fills the tabernacle.
Look. It moves before us again. Can you not stay still?
Come. Follow.
But this river is death. The waters are dark and deep.
Swim.
Now will I see your face? Where are you taking me
now?
Up the mo ~ Madeleine L'Engle

Hatred and anger are the greatest poison to the happiness of a good mind. There is, in the very feeling of those passions, something harsh, jarring, and convulsive, something that tears and distracts the breast, and is altogether destructive of that composure and tranquillity of mind which is so necessary to happiness, and which is best promoted by the contrary passions of gratitude and love. ~ Adam Smith

Account of Love gave me several results, and its amazing:
a. When man doesn't make time to talk to woman, woman feels man is not caring her.
b. When woman doesn't make time to talk to man, man need to understand her problem.
c. When man makes mistake he had to give clarifications by speaking truth or even lying.
d. When woman makes mistake mad had to accept all excuses given by woman.
e. When man suffers, most of the time he had to accept whatever happens.
f. When woman suffers, man had to make woman happy by doing anything possible
g. When love ends man need to hide all the tears as he feels he is strong.
h. When love ends woman uses tears to blame the man for all the mistakes. ~ Nutan Bajracharya

Freedom! That was the thought that sung in her heart so that even though the future was so dim, it was iridescent like the mist over the river where the morning sun fell upon it. Freedom! Not only freedom from a bond that irked, and a companionship which depressed her; freedom, not only from the death which had threatened, but freedom from the love that had degraded her; freedom from all spiritual ties, the freedom of a disembodied spirit, and with freedom, courage , and a valiant unconcern for whatever was to come. ~ W. Somerset Maugham

That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on th' other. ~ William Shakespeare

I am made of cobweb that tears at a touch. But you, Bess, have fiber like the great seines that seldom break no matter their burden,yet if they do they can be mended again and again. ~ Anya Seton

Panurge stood beside the galley with an oar in his hand, not to help the herdsmen but to prevent from from somehow clambering aboard and thus escaping their death, and all the while preached to them eloquently . . . with rhetorical flourishes about the miseries of this world and the blessings of the next, affirming that those who had passed on to that place were happier than those who lived on in this vale of tears. ~ Francois Rabelais

I think that you are the liar!" I say, my voice quaking. "You tell me you love me, you trust me, you think I'm more perceptive than the avarge person. And the first second that belief in my perceptiveness, that trust, that love is put to the test, it all falls apart." I am crying now, nut I am not ashamed of the tears shining on my cheeks or the thickness of my voice. "So you must have lied when you told me all those things ... you must have, because I can't believe your love really is that feeble."
I step closer to him, so that there are only inches between us, and none of the others can hear me.
"I am still the person who would have died rather than kill you," I say, remembering the attack simulation and the feel of his heartbeat under my hand. "I am exactly who you think I am. ~ Veronica Roth

A man is seldom more manly than when he is what you call unmanned,
the source of his emotion is championship, pity, and courage; the instinctive desire to cherish those who are innocent and unhappy, and defend those who are tender and weak. ~ William Makepeace Thackeray

The love of God does not consist in tears or in this delight ad tenderness, which for the greater part we desire and find consolation in; but it consists in serving with justice and fortitude of soil and in humility. Without such service it seems to me we would be receiving everything and giving nothing. ~ St. Teresa Of Avila

I enjoy traveling and playing baseball.Other than that, the minor leagues are tough. The wear and tear on your body.. and it's tough to stay on a nutrition program because you can only eat what is within walking distance of the hotel and what the clubhouse provides. ~ Tyler Thornburg

Salzburg ... is a mountain town with a rushing river running right through the center, everything in the rain various shades of green and brown. ~ Jonathan Carroll

Once upon a time, when the evil spirit of darkness reigned over the Land of Azerbaijan, hiding the sun inside his underground caves,
When the orphan sky peered at the Caucasus Mountains from the black dome of sorrow,
When the rain shed its tears of ice upon the barren earth… ~ Ella Leya

Palaeontology is the Aladdin's lamp of the most deserted and lifeless regions of the earth; it touches the rocks and there spring forth in orderly succession the monarchs of the past and the ancient river streams and savannahs wherein they flourished. The rocks usually hide their story in the most difficult and inaccessible places. ~ Roy Chapman Andrews

There is no freedom, but everything in the world takes place entirely according to nature....Transcendental freedom is therefore opposed to the law of causality, and represents such a connection of successive states of effective causes, that no unity of experience is possible with it. It is therefore an empty fiction of the mind, and not to be met with in any experience.
We have, therefore, nothing but nature, in which we must try to find the connection and order of cosmical events. Freedom (independence) from the laws of nature is no doubt a deliverance from restraint, but also from the guidance of all rules. For we cannot say that, instead of the laws of nature, laws of freedom may enter into the causality of the course of the world, because, if determined by laws, it would not be freedom, but nothing else but nature. Nature, therefore, and transcendental freedom differ from each other like legality and lawlessness. The former, no doubt, imposes upon the understanding the difficult task of looking higher and higher for the origin of events in the series of causes, because their causality is always conditioned. In return for this, however, it promises a complete and well-ordered unity of experience; while, on the other side, the fiction of freedom promises, no doubt, to the enquiring mind, rest in the chain of causes, leading him up to an unconditioned causality, which begins to act by itself, but which, as it is blind itself, tears the thread of rules by which alone a ~ Immanuel Kant

Learning to be a Life- Giving Mom without regrets requires embracing the season you are in. You have to let go of the past and live in the present as you lay hold of the future. At each transition you will likely shed some tears as you realize that you can't go back and re-live the past. You must move forward, facing the imperfections of your present, hoping for the future. ~ Sue Detweiler