Quotes about Tears

I have slept Weeping, and weeping I have waked; my tears Have flow'd as if my body were not such As others are, and I could never die.

We're the only ones who know what death is all about. And the earth itself. Just let somebody try to muscle in on our work, and the earth will swallow him up like that, believe me. The earth is kind to us gravediggers. It doesn't complain, it lets itself be worked over. It accepts what we give it. It endures the assassin's arrogance and the victim's tears. It's open to everybody at any moment; the great conqueror is the earth, for it is the earth that raises the dead and feeds the living.

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,Tears from the depth of some divine despairRise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,In looking on the happy autumn fields,And thinking of the days that are no more.

Maybe that's why I've always thought of God less as an engineer than as an artist—one who uses our hopes, fears, and dreams, and especially our tears, to paint on the canvas of our souls, rendering something beautiful. The hardest part, I suppose, is waiting to see what He's up to.

Maybe that's why I've always thought of God less as an engineer than as an artist—one who uses our hopes, fears, dreams, and especially our tears, to paint on the canvas of our souls, rendering something beautiful. The hardest part, I suppose, is waiting to see what He's up to.

It yields us comfort also in desolate conditions, such as contagious sicknesses and the like, in which we are more immediately under God's hand, that then Christ has a throne of mercy at our bedside and numbers our tears and our groans.

Religion indeed enlightens, terrifies, subdues; it gives faith, it inflicts remorse, it inspires resolutions, it draws tears, it inflames devotion, but only for the occasion.

We are strong enough to stand tall tearlessly, we are brave enough to bend to cry, and we are sad enough to know that we must laugh again.

Faith would get her through when she had to face tomorrow, but her grief needed the tears to fall. There was healing in those tears.

In secret pleasure — secret tears. This changeful life has slipped away.

When Joy grew mad with awe, at counting future tears.

And yet a little longer speak, Calm this resentful mood; And while the savage heart grows meek, For other token do not seek, But let the tear upon my cheek Evince my gratitude!