Great, good, and just, could I but rate
My grief with thy too rigid fate,
I'd weep the world in such a strain
As it should deluge once again;
But since thy loud-tongued blood demands supplies
More from Briareus' hands than Argus' eyes,
I'll sing thy obsequies with trumpet sounds
And write thy epitaph in blood and wounds.
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My grief lies all within, And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells read more
My grief lies all within, And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul
One joy shatters a hundred griefs
One joy shatters a hundred griefs
Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.
Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.
If our inward griefs were seen written on our brow, how many
would be pitied who are now envied!
read more
If our inward griefs were seen written on our brow, how many
would be pitied who are now envied!
[It., Se a ciascun l'interno affanno
Si leggesse in fronte scritto,
Quanti mai, che invidia fanno,
Ci farebbero pieta!]
Tears are the silent language of grief
Tears are the silent language of grief
I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge - myth is more potent than history - dreams are more powerful read more
I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge - myth is more potent than history - dreams are more powerful than facts - hope always triumphs over experience - laughter is the cure for grief - love is stronger than death
While grief is fresh, every attempt to divert only irritates. You must wait till it be digested, and then amusement read more
While grief is fresh, every attempt to divert only irritates. You must wait till it be digested, and then amusement will dissipate the remains of it.
On me, on me
Time and change can heap no more!
The painful past with blighting grief
read more
On me, on me
Time and change can heap no more!
The painful past with blighting grief
Hath left my heart a withered leaf.
Time and change can do no more.
If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine,
Thou robb'st me of a moiety.
If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine,
Thou robb'st me of a moiety.
