When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
When you are sorrowful, look again.
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.
Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.
Grief is the price we pay for love.
Every man has his secret sorrows.
Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
joy and sorrow are inseparable. . . together they come and when one sits alone with you . . remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain... When you are joyous look deep into your heart and you will find that it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
There is no greater sorrow than to recall happiness in times of misery.
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater." But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed. Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
In the night of death, hope sees a star, and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing.
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that - a parent’s heart bared, beating forever outside its chest.
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the same well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears. And how else can it be? The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven? And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
Even if loving meant leaving, or solitude, or sorrow, love was worth every penny of its price.
She must express life, death, happiness, sorrow, love and anger, but above all she must have dignity.
or simply:
