We have an obligation to feel guilty.” The words came out of her lips as if she were reciting an elegy. “Guilty. Because we kill the ones we love.
He turned away; he threw himself on his face on the sofa. ‘Oh, Jane! my hope – my love – my life!’ broke in anguish from his lips.
What is it about me that gets them all crying? It’s not the end of the world.
She felt happy these days, yet there was always an undercurrent of sadness just below the surface
Love doesn’t always show us the sad and the sorrowful part of it, it only shows us the happy circle a gain and a gain.
A sweet slip of a girl like you, why should you have to know anything about the sorrow of the world? You just believe me when I tell you… there’s no way to live your life to the full and not have a reason to shed a tear now and again. It’s not a bad feeling, child. That’s what a lament does. It makes you feel happy to be sad, in a strange way. D’you see?
I hate sadness. Anything is better than sadness. Even feeling nothing.
precious laughing time is wasted, because I have to put up with Satan’s stupid minions who smile without attempting to anger somebody else – leave us alone already.
The point is not that this world is too sad to love or too glad not to love; the point is that when you do love a thing, its gladness is a reason for loving it, and its sadness a reason for loving it more.
When your sad–like really sad–you only want to be with other people who are sad.