Cry Quotes - Page 24

• I walk outside and scream at the top of my lungs, and it maybe travels two blocks. A whale unleashes his cry, and it travels hundreds or even thousands of miles. Every whale in the ocean will at one time or another run into that song. And I figure whales probably don't edit. If they think it, they say it...Whale talk is the truth, and in a very short period of time, if you're a whale, you know exactly what it is to be you.

  Chris Crutcher

  Running, Song, Block

  "Whale Talk". Book by Chris Crutcher, 2001.

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• Deep in earth my love is lying And I must weep alone.

  Edgar Allan Poe

  Sad, Lying, Love Is

  Edgar Allan Poe, Thomas Ollive Mabbott (1969). “Complete Poems”, p.396, University of Illinois Press

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• Language, at least, may give up the secrets of life and death, leading us through the maze to the original Word as monster or angel, to the mournful place where we may meet Job and hear his cry, 'How long will you vex my soul and break me in pieces with words?

  Janet Frame

  Jobs, Giving Up, Angel

  Janet Frame (1990). “Daughter buffalo”

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• Sometimes we love with nothing more than hope. Sometimes we cry with everything except tears.

  Gregory David Roberts

  Life, Tears, Sometimes

  Gregory David Roberts (2004). “Shantaram: A Novel”, p.307, Macmillan

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• She touched the edge of its voluptuous field, knowing it would be lovely beyond dreams simply to submit to it; that not gravity's pull, laws of ballistics, feral ravening, promised more delight. She tested it, shivering: I am meant to remember. Each clue that comes is supposed to have its own clarity, its fine chances for permanence. But then she wondered if the gemlike "clues" were only some kind of compensation. To make up for her having lost the direct, epileptic Word, the cry that might abolish the night.

  Thomas Pynchon

  Dream, Night, Law

  Thomas Pynchon (2012). “The Crying of Lot 49”, p.55, Penguin

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• If indeed it's a race Then the chicks do the most It isn't a brag Or an estrogen boast It's the women who've led me With big open hearts If not for their love I'd have failed at the start. And it's not just the mothers I speak of them ALL It's a woman there first When somebody falls. The multi of tasking That's easy to tease I dare a great man To try it all, PLEASE! So this is my shout out My rallying cry To women all over I hold you up high And though there are others Who'll think this poem strange It's the women who plant The root of big change.

  Jamie Lee Curtis

  Mother, Fall, Heart

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• On a day of burial there is no perspective--for space itself is annihilated. Your dead friend is still a fragmentary being. The day you bury him is a day of chores and crowds, of hands false or true to be shaken, of the immediate cares of mourning. The dead friend will not really die until tomorrow, when silence is round you again. Then he will show himself complete, as he was--to tear himself away, as he was, from the substantial you. Only then will you cry out because of him who is leaving and whom you cannot detain.

  Antoine de Saint-Exupery

  Love, Death, Saying Goodbye

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• I learn from my own daughter that you don’t have to be awake to cry.

  Jodi Picoult

  Daughter, Empathy, Awake

  Jodi Picoult (2009). “My Sister's Keeper: A Novel”, p.41, Simon and Schuster

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• The painting showed a hairless, oppressed creature with a head like an inverted pear, its hands clapped in horror to its ears, its mouth open in a vast, soundless scream. Twisted ripples of the creature's torment, echoes of its cry, flooded out into the air surrounding it; the man or woman, whichever it was, had become contained by its own howl. It had covered its ears against its own sound. The creature stood on a bridge and no one else was present; the creature screamed in isolation. Cut off by - or despite - its outcry.

  Philip K. Dick

  Cutting, Men, Echoes

  Philip K. Dick (2008). “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?”, p.130, Ballantine Books

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• He accused me of being Dumbledore's man through and through." "How very rude of him." "I told him I was." Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Fawkes the phoenix let out a low, soft, musical cry. To Harry's intense embarrassment, he suddenly realized that Dumbledore's bright blue eyes looked rather watery, and stared hastily at his own knee. When Dumbledore spoke, however, his voice was quite steady. "I am very touched, Harry.

  J. K. Rowling

  Eye, Men, Blue

  "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince". Book by J. K. Rowling, 2005.

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• A powerful dragon crying its eyes out under the moon in a deserted valley is a sight and a sound hardly to be imagined.

  C. S. Lewis

  Powerful, Eye, Moon

  C. S. Lewis (1997). “The voyage of the Dawn Treader”, HarperCollins Publishers

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• I really beleive that if the political leaders of the world could see their planet from a distance of, let's say 100,000 miles, their outlook wouls be fundamentally changed . The all-important border would be invisible, that noisy arguement suddenly silenced. The tiny globe would continue to turn, serenely ignoring its subdivisions, presenting a unified facade that would cry out for unified understanding, for homogeneous treatment. The earth must become as it appears: blue and white, not capitalist or communist; blue and white,not rich or poor; blue and white, not envious or envied.

  Michael Collins

  Distance, Rich Or Poor, Blue

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• It’s a miserable story!” said Bruno. “It begins miserably, and it ends miserablier. I think I shall cry. Sylvie, please lend me your handkerchief.” “I haven’t got it with me,” Sylvie whispered. “Then I won’t cry,” said Bruno manfully.

  Lewis Carroll

  Thinking, Stories, Miserable

  Lewis Carroll (1893). “Sylvie and Bruno Concluded (Fully Illustrated)”, p.136, LCI

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• Long live the car crash hearts Cry on the couch all the poets come to life Fix me in 45

  Pete Wentz

  Heart, Long, Car

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• How many times must a man look up Before he can see the sky? Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have Before he can hear people cry? Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows That too many people have died? The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind, The answer is blowin' in the wind.

  Bob Dylan

  Men, Wind, Sky

  "Blowin' in the Wind" (song) (1962)

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• Today While the blossoms still cling to the vine I'll taste your strawberries I'll drink your sweet wine A million tomorrows shall all pass away Here I forget all the joy that is mine. Today I'll be a dandy and I'll be a rover You know who I am by the songs that I sing I'll feast at your table I'll sleep in your clover Who cares what tomorrow shall bring I can't be contented with yesterday's glory I can't live on promises winter to spring Today is my moment and now is my story I'll laugh and I'll cry and I'll sing

  John Denver

  Sweet, Song, Spring

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• There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is the paradox of living, this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive. This ecstasy, this forgetfulness of living, comes to the artist, caught up and out of himself in a sheet of flame; it comes to the soldier, war-mad in a stricken field and refusing quarter; and it came to Buck, leading the pack, sounding the old wolf-cry, straining after the food that was alive and that fled swiftly before him through the moonlight.

  Jack London

  War, Thinking, Artist

  Jack London (1903). “Call of the Wild”, p.83

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• How can you write if you can't cry?

  Ring Lardner

  Writing, Ifs

  Ring Lardner (1977). “The Lardners: my family remembered”, HarperCollins Publishers

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• Those fellows, they're always crying over killers. Never a thought for the victims.

  Truman Capote

  Killers, Victim, Fellows

  Truman Capote (2001). “In Cold Blood”, p.265, Vintage

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• Mom?" I said. She turned. "Can I talk to you about something?" "Of course, darling. Come here." I took a few steps into the room. There was so much I wanted to say. "I need you to be --" I said, and then I started to cry. "Be what?" she said, opening her arms. "Not sad," I said.

  Nicole Krauss

  Mom, Needs, Arms

  Nicole Krauss (2006). “The History of Love: A Novel”, p.202, W. W. Norton & Company

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• Down in the city are the nice houses and the so-so houses and the lovers making out in dark yards and the babies crying for their moms, and I wonder if, other than Jesus, has this ever happened before. Maybe it happens all the time. Maybe there's angry dead all over, hiding in rooms, covered with blankets, bossing around their scared, embarrassed relatives. Because how would we know?

  George Saunders

  Mom, Baby, Jesus

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• Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I'm one of them.

  Ray Bradbury

  Sad, People, Special

  FaceBook post by Ray Bradbury from Jan 16, 2017

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• Don't cry for a man who's left you--the next one may fall for your smile.

  Mae West

  Funny, Smile, Break Up

  Mae West (1967). “The wit and wisdom of Mae West”

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• Did God ever cry over his lost angel, I wonder?

  Libba Bray

  Angel, Rebel, Wonder

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• And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off? Or pretending? He let them fall.

  J. K. Rowling

  Fall, Tears, Hot

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