Cry Quotes - Page 27

• I remembered the fox. One runs the risk of crying a bit if one allows oneself to be tamed.

  Antoine de Saint-Exupery

  Running, Risk, Foxes

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• I am crying, he thought, opening his eyes to stare through the soapy, stinging water. I feel like crying, so I must be crying, but it's impossible to tell because I'm underwater. But he wasn't crying. Curiously, he felt too depressed to cry. Too hurt. It felt as if she'd taken the part of him that cried.

  John Green

  Hurt, Real, Taken

  John Green (2008). “An Abundance of Katherines”, p.14, Penguin

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• She cried a little, but only inside, because long ago she had decided she didn't like crying because if you ever started to cry it seemed as if there was so much to cry about you almost couldn't stop, and she didn't like that at all.

  William Saroyan

  Long Ago, Littles, Decided

  William Saroyan, Leo Hamalian (1990). “Madness in the Family”, p.31, New Directions Publishing

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• What do you mean, what's the matter with him? Nothing's the matter with him, everything's the matter with him, the same as it is with everybody else. He's just fine. He gets overwhelmed now and then, and he doesn't know how to say what he feels or means, so he cries and runs off a little, trying to find out where to go, for God's sake. Where can you go?

  William Saroyan

  Running, Mean, Trying

  William Saroyan, Leo Hamalian (1990). “Madness in the Family”, p.49, New Directions Publishing

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• No, I can't admit it. Brother,' said Alyosha suddenly, with flashing eyes, 'you said just now, is there a being in the whole world who would have the right to forgive and could firgive? But there is a Being and He can forgive everything, all and for all, because He gave His innocent blood for all and everything. You have forgotten Him, and on Him is built the edifice, and it is to Him they cry aloud, "Thou art just, O Lord, for Thy ways are revealed!

  Fyodor Dostoevsky

  Art, Brother, Eye

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• Is it the sea you hear in me? Its dissatisfactions? Or the voice of nothing, that was your madness? Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it.

  Sylvia Plath

  Lying, Love Is, Sea

  Sylvia Plath (2010). “Ariel”, p.18, Faber & Faber

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• I've looked at the world for quite a few years now and I've found that if I don't laugh, I'll probably end up crying." - Prince Kheldar of Drasnia

  David Eddings

  Years, Laughing, World

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• These loaves, pigeons, and two little boys seemed unearthly. It all happened at the same time: a little boy ran over to a pigeon, glancing over at Levin with a smile; the pigeon flapped its wings and fluttered, gleaming in the sunshine among the snowdust quivering in the air, while the smell of freshly baked bread was wafted out of a little window as the loaves were put out. All this together was so extraordinarily wonderful that Levin burst out laughing and crying for joy.

  Leo Tolstoy

  Sunshine, Boys, Air

  Leo Tolstoy (graf) (1978). “Anna Karenina”

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• your letters got sadder. your lovers betrayed you. kid, I wrote back, all lovers betray. it didn't help. you said you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and the bridge was over the river and you sat on the crying bench every night and wept for the lovers who had hurt and forgotten you.

  Charles Bukowski

  Hurt, Kids, Night

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• It was the first time I had ever made love. I wondered if he knew that. It felt like crying. I wondered, Why does anyone ever make love?

  Jonathan Safran Foer

  Making Love, Doe, Firsts

  Jonathan Safran Foer (2013). “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close: A Novel”, p.84, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• I hold my peace, sir? no; No, I will speak as liberal as the north; Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.

  William Shakespeare

  Men, Heaven, Devil

  William Shakespeare (1790). “The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustr. of various commentators; to which are added An essay on the chronological order of his plays; an essay relative to Shakspeare and Jonson; a dissertation on the three parts of King Henry vi; an historical account of the English stage; and notes. By E. Malone. 10 vols. [in 11 pt.].”, p.634

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• I have a face like a washrag. I sing love songs and carry steel. I would rather die than cry. I can't stand hounds can't live without them. I hang my head against the white refrigerator and want to scream like the last weeping of life forever but I am bigger than the mountains.

  Charles Bukowski

  Song, White, Forever

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• Being a writer means crying over the sad parts, even though you already know it’s going to be okay.

  Clare B. Dunkle

  Mean, Okay, Knows

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• In times of grief and sorrow I will hold you and rock you, and take your grief and make it my own. When you cry, I cry, and when you hurt, I hurt. And together we will try to hold back the floods to tears and despair and make it through the potholed street of life.

  Nicholas Sparks

  Notebook, Hurt, Grief

  "The Notebook". Book by Nicholas Sparks, October 1, 1996.

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• So every day So every day I was surrounded by the beautiful crying forth of the ideas of God, one of which was you.

  Mary Oliver

  Beautiful, Ideas

  Mary Oliver (2008). “Red Bird: Poems”, p.70, Beacon Press

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• I don't want water!" Sarah cries, her face buried against my chest. I can't see what's going on in the rest of the lobby beacuse Sarah's hair is flying up in my face, blocking my view. I want justice!" she wails. Well, we'll get you some of that too." Magda has appeared from out of nowhere. "Maybe there's some in the freezer.

  Meg Cabot

  Block, Hair, Views

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• Sleep is still difficult I sleep for three or four hours a day. Usually sometime in the afternoon. I walk in the cold, keep myself numb. I cry less, and less." (James Frey, pg.88)

  James Frey

  Sleep, Three, Afternoon

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• I have an immense appetite for solitude, like an infant for sleep, and if I don't get enough for this year, I shall cry all the next.

  Henry David Thoreau

  Sleep, Years, Solitude

  Henry David Thoreau (2014). “Familiar Letters (Annotated Edition)”, p.242, Jazzybee Verlag

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• I cry. Evil dissolves, & love, like foam; that love. Prattle of children powers me home, my heart claps like the swan's under a frenzy of who love me & who shine.

  John Berryman

  Children, Home, Heart

  "The Heart Is Strange: New Selected Poems".

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• Still, I look down, and the grass is so green, I cannot understand how it does not wither and die with sorrow. But against the emerald carpet, the warriors make war, and it is like a dance, almost beautiful, always macabre. The noise brings me back, the fearsome noise of swords striking swords, a metallic clanging that rings in my ears, echoing and echoing the fearsome din of men screaming and crying as they meet the sharp ends of blades.

  Lisa Ann Sandell

  Beautiful, War, Men

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• This is my living faith, an active faith, a faith of verbs: to question, explore, experiment, experience, walk, run, dance, play, eat, love, learn, dare, taste, touch, smell, listen, speak, write, read, draw, provoke, emote, scream, sin, repent, cry, kneel, pray, bow, rise, stand, look, laugh, cajole, create, confront, confound, walk back, walk forward, circle, hide, and seek.

  Terry Tempest Williams

  Faith, Running, Writing

  Terry Tempest Williams (2001). “Leap”, Vintage

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• Once I spoke the language of the flowers, Once I understood each word the caterpillar said, Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings, And shared a conversation with the housefly in my bed. Once I heard and answered all the questions of the crickets, And joined the crying of each falling dying flake of snow, Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . . How did it go? How did it go?

  Shel Silverstein

  Flower, Fall, Snow

  Shel Silverstein, “Forgotten Language”

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• I had seen the damp lying on the outside of my little window, as if some goblin had been crying there all night, and using the window for a pocket-handkerchief.

  Charles Dickens

  Lying, Night, Pockets

  Charles Dickens (2009). “The Complete Works of Charles Dickens: Great Expectations”, p.14, Cosimo, Inc.

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• It’s harder to talk about, but what I really, really, really want for Christmas is just this: I want to be 5 years old again for an hour. I want to laugh a lot and cry a lot. I want to be picked or rocked to sleep in someone’s arms, and carried up to be just one more time. I know what I really want for Christmas: I want my childhood back. People who think good thoughts give good gifts.

  Robert Fulghum

  Sleep, Thinking, Years

  17 Copy quote

• You know, you hear about these movements for women, and for children, and for people who are any race but white, and you think that it's about time that men got a movement. Think about it. Guys can't play the piano, or dance, or sing. We can't cry, or be too happy, or show any emotion for that matter. The only thing we have left to us is anger, and even that we have to bottle up. Boys should be able to express what they feel and not have to endure people laughing at them, forcing them to wonder if they're gay or not, just because they like to paint.

  Alex Sanchez

  Children, Gay, Men

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