There sighs, lamentations and loud wailings resounded through the starless air, so that at first it made me weep; strange tongues, horrible language, words of pain, tones of anger, voices loud and hoarse, and with these the sound of hands, made a tumult which is whirling through that air forever dark, and sand eddies in a whirlwind.
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Fear not for the future, weep not for the past.
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Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan, Sorrow calls no time that 's gone; Violets plucked, the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again.
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Don't stand beside my grave and weep, For I'm not there, I do not sleep, I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond's glint on snow, I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in morning's hush, I am the swift uplifting rush, of quiet birds in circle flight, I am soft stars that shine at night, Don't stand beside my grave and cry, I am not there. I did not die.
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Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone. For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own.
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The good want power, but to weep barren tears. The powerful goodness want: worse need for them....
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Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee;/ When thou art old there's grief enough for thee. / Mother's wag, pretty boy, / Father's sorrow, father's joy.
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People named John and Mary never divorce. For better or for worse, in madness and in saneness, they seem bound together for eternity by their rudimentary nomenclature. They may loathe and despise one another, quarrel, weep, and commit mayhem, but they are not free to divorce. Tom, Dick, and Harry can go to Reno on a whim, but nothing short of death can separate John and Mary.
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We hear much of chivalry of men towards women; but ... it vanishes like dew before the summer sun when one of us comes into competition with the manly sex. Let a woman sit, weep, wring her hands, and exult in her own helplessness, and the modern knight buckles on his imaginary breastplate and draws his sword in her behalf; but when the woman girds up her loins for the battle of life, ready to fight like a lioness, if need be, to put food in the mouths of her children, let her select for her field the living-room or the cooking range.
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Those who weep for the happy periods which they encounter in history acknowledge what they want; not the alleviation but the silencing of misery.
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I think I could turn and live with animals, They are so placid and self-contained! I stand and look at them long and long, They do not sweat and whine about their condition, they do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, they do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things, Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago, Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.'
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I weep for the liberty of my country when I see at this early day of its 'successful experiment' that corruption has been imputed to many memb...
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He was a friend to man, and lived in a house by the side of the road. HOMERThere are hermit souls that live withdrawnIn the peace of their self-content;There are souls, like stars, that dwell apart,In a fellowless firmament;There are pioneer souls that blaze their pathsWhere highways never ran;But let me live by the side of the roadAnd be a friend to man. Let me live in a house by the side of the road,Where the race of men go byThe men who are good and the men who are bad,As good and as bad as I. I would not sit in the scorners seat,Or hurl the cynics ban;Let me live in a house by the side of the roadAnd be a friend to man. I see from my house by the side of the road,By the side of the highway of life,The men who press with the ardor of hope,The men who are faint with the strife. But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tearsBoth parts of an infinite plan;Let me live in my house by the side of the roadAnd be a friend to man. I know there are brook-gladdened meadows aheadAnd mountains of wearisome height;That the road passes on through the long afternoonAnd stretches away to the night. But still I rejoice when the travellers rejoice,And weep with the strangers that moan. Nor live in my house by the side of the roadLike a man who dwells alone. Let me live in my house by the side of the roadWhere the race of men go byThey are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,Wise, foolishso am I. Then why should I sit in the scorners seatOr hurl the cynics ban?Let me live in my house by the side of the roadAnd be a friend to man.
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He must have a truly romantic nature, for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about.
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The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, The vapours weep their burthen to the ground,...
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Men should be careful lest they cause women to weep, for God counts their tears.
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Those who don't know how to weep with their whole heart, don't know how to laugh either.
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Laugh and the world laughs with you Weep, and you weep alone For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own.
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Laugh and the world laughs with you, Weep, and you weep alone; For this brave old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own.
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'Tis a queer life, and the only humour proper to it seems quiet astonishment. Others laugh, weep, sell, or proselyte. I admire.
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Sadly sung sanctuary, I hear it in each one Of my bones, tear drenched, drunk on my own Despair. I'm crying tonight, the dawn of the Stigma Christmas, My thoughts, every one encoded In viral disease, each one burning on for One thousand years. I'm sitting on a pew. In A church, in a city, in a world I wish I Never knew. Where the crucifix should be I See a mirror, and my reflection doesn't Appear. So I weep. So I'm non-existent in This fallout shelter we call America. So I'm condemned tonight, to celebrate the Stigmata we call Christ, Jesus, and the holy Ghost. I'm alone in a world no one's ever Known, and I'm doubting beliefs that I've Always felt in control. Of all the lies I've Told to thee, this is the one that will Always Haunt me
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'Tis not to see the world As from a height, with rapt prophetic eyes, And heart profoundly stirred; And weep, and feel the fullness of the past, The years that are not more.
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Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
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Arms are instruments of ill omen. . . . When one is compelled to use them, it is best to do so without relish. There is no glory in victory, and to glorify it despite this is to exult in the killing of men. . . . When great numbers of people are killed, one should weep over them with sorrow. When victorious in war, one should observe mourning rites.
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I think I could turn and live with animals, They are so placid and self-contained! I stand and look at them long and long, They do not sweat and whine about their condition, they do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, they do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things, Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago, Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth."
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It's no accident many accuse me of conducting public affairs with my heart instead of my head. Well, what if I do ... Those who don't know how to weep with their whole heart don't know how to laugh either.
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The tears of the world are a constant quality. For each one who begins to weep, somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.
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... Nature, whose sweet rains fall of just and unjust alike, will have clefts in the rocks where I may hide, and secret valleys in whose silence I may weep undetected. She will hang the night with stars so that I may walk abroad in the darkness without stumbling, and send the wind over my footprints so that none may track me to my hurt: she will cleanse me in great waters, and with bitter herbs make me whole.
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James 5:1:
Now listen, you rich people, weep and wail because of the misery that is coming on you.
(NIV)
COME NOW, you rich [people], weep aloud and lament over the miseries (the woes) that are surely coming upon you.
(AMP)
Go to now, ye rich men, weep and howl for your miseries that shall come upon you.
(KJV)
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Laugh and the world laughs with you; Weep and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, but has trouble enough of its own.
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