“When I find myself filling with rage over the loss of a beloved, I try as soon as possible to remember that my concerns and questions should be focused on what I learned or what I have yet to learn from my departed love. What legacy was left which can help me in the art of living a good life?
Did I learn to be kinder,
To be more patient,
And more generous,
More loving,
More ready to laugh,
And more easy to accept honest tears?
If I accept those legacies of my departed beloveds, I am able to say, Thank You to them for their love and Thank You to God for their lives.”
“The tears came so fast to Mrs. Pontellier’s eyes that the damp sleeve of her peignoir no longer served to dry them. She was holding the back of her chair with one hand; her loose sleeve had slipped almost to the shoulder of her uplifted arm. Turning, she thrust her face, steaming and wet, into the bend of her arm, and she went on crying there, not caring any longer to dry her face, her eyes, her arms. She could not have told why she was crying. Such experiences as the foregoing were not uncommon in her married life. They seemed never before to have weighed much against the abundance of her husband’s kindness and a uniform devotion which had come to be tacit and self-understood.”
“The tears dissolve the last block of ice in my throat. I feel the frozen stillness melt down through the inside of me, dripping shards of ice that vanish in a puddle of sunlight on the stained floor. Words float up.”
“The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh. Let us not then speak ill of our generation, it is not any unhappier than its predecessors. Let us not speak well of it either. Let us not speak of it at all. It is true the population has increased.”
“He chuckled at the memory, and then, in the instant, tears were burning in his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. That was always the way of grief: laughter and tears, joy and sorrow.”
“He had been wont to despise emotions: girls were weak, emotions–tears– were weakness. But this morning he was thinking that being a great brain in a tower, nothing but brain, wouldn’t be much fun.”
“A time for every occupation under heaven. A time for giving birth, a time for dying; a time for planting, a time for uprooting what has been planted; a time for tears, a time for laughter; a time for mourning, a time for dancing; a time for searching, a time for losing; a time for loving, a time for hating...”
“The tears were hot in Salva’s eyes. Where had everyone gone? Why had they left without waking him? He knew the answer: because he was a child . . . who might tire easily and slow them down, and complain about being hungry, and cause trouble somehow.”
“She hardly observed that a tear descended slowly upon his cheek, a tear so large that it magnified the pores of skin over which it rolled, like the object lens of a microscope.”
“I once beheld on earth celestial graces
And heavenly beauties scarce to mortals known,
Whose memory yields nor joy nor grief alone,
But all things else in cloud and dreams effaces.
I saw how tears had left their weary traces
Within those eyes that once the sun outshone,
I heard those lips, in low and plaintive moan,
Breathe words to stir the mountains from their places.
Love, wisdom, courage, tenderness, and truth
Made in their mourning strains more high and dear
Than ever wove soft sounds for mortal ear;
And heaven seemed listening in such saddest ruth
The very leaves upon the bough to soothe,
Such sweetness filled the blissful atmosphere.”
″ Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek.
‘There’s a leak,’ she pronounced. ‘I told You that You were trying to put too much into this model.’
‘It’s not a leak,’ said the Lord, ‘It’s a tear.’
‘What’s it for?’
‘It’s for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness, and pride.’ ”
“Then came the second phase of conflict, tears and pleadings—abstraction, in a word. In those fever-hot, nerve-ridden sickrooms crazy scenes took place.”
“Well, you really are your own worst critic. I’m sure it’s amazing. I remember that paper that you wrote in school about synaptic behavioral routines. It made me cry.”
“Tears came to his eyes, then, for how lopsided he had let their friendship become, and for how long Willem had stayed with him, year after year, even when he had fled from him, even when he had asked him for help with problems whose origins he wouldn’t reveal. In his new life, he promised himself, he would be less demanding of his friends; he would be more generous. Whatever they wanted, he would give them. If Willem wanted information, he could have it, and it was up to him to figure out how to give it to him. He would be hurt again and again—everyone was—but if he was going to try, if he was going to be alive, he had to be tougher, he had to prepare himself, he had to accept that this was part of the bargain of life itself.”
“She looked at him bravely now for the first time, at his face, the face from which a child had fled, and drew breath. She rose. Her eyes filled. She knew.”
“Every song you love, every memory you cherish, every moment that has moved you to holy tears has been given to you from the One who has been pursuing you from your first breath in order to win your heart.”
“I fell in love with you when you put Mo’s feelings before your own and stayed with her for as long as she needed you.” One fat tear slid down her cheek as he said, “And, most of all, I fell in love with you when you showed me that it was safe to love again. I keep falling in love with you again and again. Just like I’m falling right this second.”
“M’names Boone. But the fellas all call me Boohoo. That’s on account of Ah cry so easy. It’s m’soft heart. Show me some’n sad, or scare me just a little, and the tears jest come to mah eyes. Ah cain’t help it.”
Especially the scenes concerning the Websters and the wedding were hilarious, I sometimes laughed so hard I had tears in my eyes.
On the other side, the scenes concerning the De Head family were sometimes very sad and their situation had an almost hopeless feel to it, especially near the end.
Each story speaks wholeness and healing and wonder to the soul. I needed several tissues in each story to wipe away the tears: whether it was over Griffin’s misunderstanding that his baby sister had gone away because he didn’t love her enough or Perry’s mute solitude as he strives to understand why his mother would leave him in a suitcase stolen from a thrift shop and go to heaven without him.
″‘See, I’ve stopped crying. I won’t cry ever again, I promise you.’
‘Don’t promise that. Never promise that. Tears are good sometimes. They clear the heart of sorrow.‘”
“And even though his face was wet with tears he wasn’t supposed to cry when he was alive, I couldn’t see him as anything less than my brother, my favorite, my only.”
“He looked back at Amos on the elephant’s head. Tears were rolling down the great whale’s cheeks. The tiny mouse had tears in his eyes too. ‘Goodbye, dear friend,’ squeaked Amos. ‘Goodbye, dear friend,’ rumbled Boris, and he disappeared in the waves. They knew they might never meet again. They knew they would never forget each other.”
“Tears were not possible for the sorrow for it all had frozen her. Lara stood motionless for some time as the sun slid out of sight behind the trees. The dog stood beside her, silent and still too. The Thunderwith stirred and licked her hand. All at once, Lara’s eyes were drawn from the bleak evening sky to the dog waiting so patiently beside her. She patted its head, grateful for its silent companionship. Then she knelt and hugged it to her fiercely. Oh, Tunderwith!.”
“Tears threatened again. I sniffed and tried to control my face. No one could ever tell what Mother thought or felt by looking at her. This was a useful trait. I needed to learn how to do it. There were so many things she had tried to teach me, but I didn’t listen.”
“There, her beginning, and she fought through darkness still; toward that moment when she would make her peace with God, when she would hear Him speak, and He would wipe all tears from her eyes; as, in that other darkness, after eternity, she had heard John cry.”
“Oh! anger is an evil thing
And spoils the fairest face;
It cometh like a rainy cloud
Upon a sunny place.
One angry moment often does
What we repent for years:
It works the wrong we ne’re make right
By sorrow or tears.”
″ ‘They mean,’ he said sadly, ′ that you must weep with me for my sins, because I have no tears, and pray with me for my soul, because I have no faith, and then, if you have always been sweet, and good, and gentle, the angel of death will have mercy on me.′ ”
“The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little swallow was filled with pity.”
″ ‘When I was alive and had a human heart,’ answered the statue, ‘I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter.’ ”
“Pluck wasn’t the kind of boy who cried easily. In fact he never cried at all, but now he felt a strange lump in his throat and tears started to run down his cheeks. His little friend Zaza was dead.”
“So just as the sun began to smile and chase away the sky’s heavy tears, they all went to bed again to make up for the broken night, and it was:six o’clock and tea time before any of them opened their eyes again.”
“With his hands pressed to his chest and his eyes still streaming with forced tears, he ran towards the nestling of lanes about the great cathedral. Softhearted ladies stared as he passed, moved by the sight of the weeping urchin. Then his eyes dried up, his nose recovered- and his grand determination flared anew. He would learn to read!”
“The thought of the old lady, carefully preparing for her solitary slumbers, was too much for Sylvia, and tears began to run silently down her cheeks...”
“It was hard to beg humbly from a witch; and when she answered, ‘No, dear, I’m not going out this afternoon,’ harder still to conceal hot tears of rage- rage and disappointment.”
″...she cried, ‘Moving vans,’ and burst into tears. She threw her apron over her head and wept for some time, demanding that Little Georgie be confined to the burrow on the morrow until all danger was past.”
“Quirky? You can say that again . . . I have an eye on my finger and a little face in my throat. I start to cry. Tears fall down my face. And down my finger. The eye on my finger is shedding tears too. You’ll be speechless.”
“Lord Lundy from his earliest years
Was far to freely moved to Tears.
For instance if his
Mother said, ‘Lundy! It’s time to go to Bed!’
He bellowed like a Little Turk.
Or if his father Lord Dunquerque Said
‘Hi!’ in a Commanding Tone,
‘Hi, Lundy! Leave the Cat alone!’ ”
And thus _she_ would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut down?
“But Joe’s spirits had gone down almost beyond resurrection. He was so homesick that he could hardly endure the misery of it. The tears lay very near the surface.”
“Becky’s lips trembled and the tears came to her eyes; she hid these signs with a forced gayety and went on chattering, but the life had gone out of the picnic, now, and out of everything else; she got away as soon as she could and hid herself and had what her sex call “a good cry.”
“Your excellency!” she wailed suddenly with a heart-rending scream and a flood of tears, “protect the orphans! You have been their father’s guest... one may say aristocratic....”