Your body's many cries for water: you are not sick, you are thirsty: don't treat thirst with medications!
From beasts we scorn as soulless, In forest, field and den, The cry goes up to witness The soulessness of men
According to the spirit of this age, the ultimate sin is no longer the failure to honor and thank God but the failure to esteem oneself. Self-abasement, not God-abasement, is the evil. And the cry of deliverance is not "O wretched man that I am, who will deliver me?" but "O worthy man that I am, would that I could only see it better"!
He that first cries out stop thief, is often he that has stolen the treasure.
People don’t cry when they lose their hope. They cry when they get it back.
The opinion of all lawyers, the unanimous cry of the nation, and the good of the state, are in themselves a law.
Cruel men cry easily at the cinema.
One voice is tiny, and alone it cannot be heard above the din of politics as usual. The peoples voice, when it cries as one, is a great roar.
If there are still men who really want to live in this world, they should first dare to speak out, to laugh, to cry, to be angry, to accuse, to fight-that they may at least cleanse this accursed place of its accursed atmosphere!
Where are now the warriors of the world of the spirit? Where are those who raise their voices for truth, who lead us to goodness, beauty, strength and health? Where are those who utter heartwarming words, who will lead us out of the wilderness? Our homes are gone and the nation is destroyed, yet we have no Jeremiah crying out his last sad song to the world and to posterity.
I remember in 1990, there were five of us making $3 million a year. When guys passed us, we didn't cry. Why would we cry? You didn't get mad when someone got $6 million. Or $8 million.
You've been cold to me so long, I'm crying icicles instead of tears.
When they saw you kneeling, crying words you mean. Opening their eyeballs, eyeballs, pretending that your Al Green, Al Green.
But there's the paradox of fiction - why do you cry when a fake character dies? It's the basis of art. You engage with people who don't exist and care about them as you would your friends and relatives.
There's always a great hue and cry when you sign onto a "remake," and that's always been sort of annoying me and freaking me out. This profession that we're in is drama. What drama has been since the beginning is, you restage plays with new casts, or a writer will take a new run at an old story.
So many times, you get a script and it says, "And then, the character cries," and you read the lines and think, "That would never make me cry. Those lines are so untruthful." My approach is just to be honest to the situation.
If you're a man, you don't cry about it, you take life, the ups and downs; if you're a real man you never go down, you just stay up!
They've been changing the cry from "global warming" to "climate change" because there's so little evidence there's actually any warming going on. I believe that as little as a decade from now, global warming will be recognized as one of the greatest swindles in world history. It has so little scientific basis, it can only rationally be considered a political scam.
Once crime was as solitary as a cry of protest; now it is as universal as science. Yesterday it was put on trial; today it determines the law.
But there's no sense crying over every mistake. You just keep on trying till you run out of cake.
Don't expect me to cry for the wrong reasons.
Come hell or water high you'll never see me cry this is our last good bye.
When things have gone really wrong in my life, I've cried like a child. I have really, really cried. I cry it out. Two-three days I cry, and then I'm like, enough, time to deal with reality and figure a way out. This is the way I have dealt with everything.
Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of two eternities. We strive in vain to look beyond the heights. We cry aloud-and the only answer is the echo of our wailing cry. From the voiceless lips of the unreplying dead there comes no word. But in the night of Death Hope sees a star and listening Love can hear the rustling of a wing.
In our society, any man who doesn't cry at his mother's funeral is liable to be condemned to death.
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