Somewhere there's someone who dreams of your smile, somewhere there's someone who finds your presence worthwhile, so when you are lonely, sad and blue, remember there is someone, somewhere thinking of you.

I always like walking in the rain, so no one can see me crying.

Tears are the silent language of grief.

Smile, even if it's a sad smile, because sadder than a sad smile is the sadness of not knowing how to smile.

Laughing faces do not mean that there is absence of sorrow! But it means that they have the ability to deal with it.

Sadness flies away on the wings of time.

The tears fall, they're so easy to wipe off onto my sleeve, but how do I erase the stain from my heart?

One of the sweet things about pain and sorrow is that they show us how well we are loved, how much kindness there is in the world, and how easily we can make others happy in the same way when they need help and sympathy.

If you haven't cried, your eyes can't be beautiful.

Silence is the uttrinate eloquence of sorrow.

All good things must come to an end, but all bad things can continue forever.

Sadness is always the legacy of the past; regrets are pains of the memory.

Absolute silence leads to sadness. It is the image of death.

- My heart hurts.
- Heart disease, huh?
- No, it's not a physical ache.

Given a choice between grief and nothing, I'd choose grief.

What is the source of sadness, but feebleness of the mind? What giveth it power but the want of reason? Rouse thyself to the combat, and she quitteth the field before thou strikest.

It seems to me that almost all our sadnesses are moments of tension, which we feel as paralysis because we no longer hear our astonished emotions living. Because we are alone with the unfamiliar presence that has entered us; because everything we trust and are used to is for a moment taken away from us; because we stand in the midst of a transition where we cannot remain standing. That is why the sadness passes: the new presence inside us, the presence that has been added, has entered our heart, has gone into its innermost chamber and is no longer even there, - is already in our bloodstream. And we don't know what it was. We could easily be made to believe that nothing happened, and yet we have changed, as a house that a guest has entered changes. We can't say who has come, perhaps we will never know, but many signs indicate that the future enters us in this way in order to be transformed in us, long before it happens. And that is why it is so important to be solitary and attentive when one is sad: because the seemingly uneventful and motionless moment when our future steps into us is so much closer to life than that other loud and accidental point of time when it happens to us as if from outside. The quieter we are, the more patient and open we are in our sadnesses, the more deeply and serenely the new presence can enter us, and the more we can make it our own, the more it becomes our fate.

Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.

And the stars just sit there and glimmer like they don't notice how we're dying inside, and the rain still pours and mocks us in our death, and the world goes on when all the hearts are broken.

Strange how laughter looks like crying with no sound and how raindrops look like tears without pain.

The display of sorrow is sometimes a subtle form of vanity.

The only sadnesses that are dangerous and unhealthy are the ones that we carry around in public in order to drown them out with the noise; like diseases that are treated superficially and foolishly, they just withdraw and after a short interval break out again all the more terribly; and gather inside us and are life, are life that is unlived, rejected, lost, life that we can die of.