How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need; by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath. Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.
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Be factious for redress of all these griefs, And I will set this foot of mine as far As who goes farthest.
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Why not make an end of it all?... My life is a succession of griefs and bitter feelings.... What is death?... A very small matter, when all is...
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But for the lovers, their arms Round the griefs of the ages, Who pay no praise or wages Nor heed my craft or art.
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Even his griefs are a joy long after to one that remembers all that he wrought and endured.
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1 Timothy 6:10:
For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.
(NIV)
For the love of money is a root of all evils; it is through this craving that some have been led astray and have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves through with many acute [mental] pangs.
(AMP)
For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.
(KJV)
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Of all the griefs that harass the distrest, Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest.
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It is very difficult to be wholly joyous or wholly sad on this earth. The comic, when it is human, soon takes upon itself a face of pain and some of our griefs . . . have their source in weaknesses which must be recognized with smiling compassion as the common inheritance of us all.
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Of all the griefs that harass the distrest, Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest.
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Isaiah 53:4:
Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted.
(NIV)
Surely He has borne our griefs (sicknesses, weaknesses, and distresses) and carried our sorrows and pains [of punishment], yet we [ignorantly] considered Him stricken, smitten, and afflicted by God [as if with leprosy]. [Matt. 8:17.](AMP)
Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.
(KJV)
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Life is a series of experiences, each one of which makes us bigger, even though it is hard to realize this. For the world was built to develop character, and we must learn that the setbacks and griefs which we endure help us in our marching onward.
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Time heals griefs and quarrels, for we change and are no longer the same persons. Neither the offender nor the offended are any more themselves.
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Time heals griefs and quarrels, for we change and are no longer the same persons. Neither the offender nor the offended are any more themselve...
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Of all the griefs that harass the distrest,
Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest.
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Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.
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The greatest griefs are those we cause ourselves.
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This communicating of a man's self to his friend works two contrary effects for it redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in half.
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