Sadder Quotes

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About Sadder Quotes

Keyword: Sadder

Quotes: 41 total.

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Words (count)539 - 176
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Date (year)18831452 - 1990
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A sadder and a wiser man, He rose the morrow morn.
Experience
• Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Ancient Mariner, Part VII. Last St.
• Source: Wikiquote: "Experience" (Sourced, Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations: Quotes reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 244-45.)
There's nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child.
The Mariner, whose eye is bright, Whose beard with age is hoar, Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest Turned from the bridegroom's door. He went like one that hath been stunned, And is of sense forlorn: A sadder and a wiser man, He rose the morrow morn.
Every day we started fighting. Every night we fell in love. No one else could make me sadder. But no one else could lift me high above.
No sadder proof can be given by a man of his own littleness than disbelief in great men.
No I would not give you false hope On this strange and mournful day But the mother and child reunion Is only a motion away, Oh, little darling of mine I can't for the life of me Remember a sadder day I know they say let it be But it just don't work out that way...
The sun that brief December day Rose cheerless over hills of gray, And, darkly circled, gave at noon A sadder light than waning moon.
December
• John Greenleaf Whittier, Snow-Bound.
• Source: Wikiquote: "December" (Sourced, Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations: Quotes reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 184.)
"By God and man dishonoured, By death and life made vain, Know ye the old barbarian, The barbarian come again— "When is great talk of trend and tide, And wisdom and destiny, Hail that undying heathen That is sadder than the sea. "In what wise men shall smite him, Or the Cross stand up again, Or charity or chivalry, My vision saith not; and I see No more; but now ride doubtfully To the battle of the plain."
The Ballad of the White Horse
• Source: Wikiquote: "The Ballad of the White Horse" (Book VIII : The Scouring Of The Horse: The Reign of Alfred, an honoring of past traditions, anticipation of times when ways of honor shall diminish, and the taking of London. )
'''Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe, Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast, Is that portentous phrase, ''I told you so.'''''
Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe, Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast; Is that portentous phrase, "I told you so."
He went like one that hath been stunn'd, And is of sense forlorn: A sadder and a wiser man, He rose the morrow morn.
Misfortune
• Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (1798; 1817), Part VII. Last Stanza.
• Source: Wikiquote: "Misfortune" (Sourced)
Sadder than the beggar is the man who eats alone in public.
It is sad not to be loved, but it is much sadder not to be able to love.
The days grow shorter, the nights grow longer, The headstones thicken along the way; And life grows sadder, but love grows stronger For those who walk with us day by day.
Life
• Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Interlude.
• Source: Wikiquote: "Life" (Anonymous, Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations: Quotes reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 440-55.)
The mode of death is sadder than death itself.
Your children's losing battle with time seems even sadder than your own.
The funeral and the marriage, now, alas! We know not which is sadder to recall.
I can't sing. As a singist I am not a success. I am saddest when I sing. So are those who hear me. They are sadder even than I am.
Make believin in forever Is just a lie. And it seems a little sadder Each time we try. 'Cause it's a shame to make The same mistakes again, And again. It's over. Nobody wins.
{Music symbolizes the loss of faith, of common belief.] The small, intimate church is closed, the organs are dead, it is sadder than before. Only those whom fate designs for the eternal mass of infinite love remain. They compose only a very small chapel of clarity in space and time.[45]
Only in the self we grope To the misty end of time: Truth has put an end to hope. What of all the heart to love? Sadder than for will or soul, No light lured it on above; Love has found itself the whole. The Hunter Also known as "Refuge".
Some are born to move the world, to live their fantasies But most of us just dream about the things we'd like to be Sadder still to watch it die, then never to have known it For you, the blind who once could see The bell tolls for thee... -- Losing It (1982)
We are no longer the same, you wiser but not sadder, and I sadder but not wiser, for wiser I could hardly become without grave personal inconvenience, whereas sorrow is a thing you can keep adding to all your life long, is it not, like a stamp or an egg collection, without feeling very much the worse for it, is it not.
Now if there's a smile on my face, It's only there tryin' to fool the public, But when it comes down to foolin' you; Now honey, that's quite a different subject. But don't let my glad expression Give you the wrong impression. Really I'm sad. I'm sadder than sad. You're gone and I'm hurtin' so bad. Like a clown I pretend to be glad.
"Well, Nasreddin. I know you lose your only donkey. Life may be difficult without it. But, don't be too sad brother," the man tried to cheer him up. "Do I look sad?" "Yes, you look very sad. You looked much sadder than you did when your wife died." [...] "At that time you all tried to cheer me up by saying 'Don't be too sad, my brother Nasreddin. We'll get you a new wife.' But now you see, nobody offers me a donkey to replace my lost one."
Nasreddin
• Sugeng Hariyanto, Nasreddin, A Man Who Never Gives Up (1998), ISBN 9789796721597, p. 13
• Source: Wikiquote: "Nasreddin" (Quotes)
There are few sights sadder than a ruined book.
A sadder vision yet: thine aged sire Shaming his hoary locks with treacherous wile! And dost thou now doubt Truth to be a liar? And wilt thou die, that hast forgot to smile?
Is anything sadder than a train That leaves when it’s supposed to, That has only one voice, Only one route? There’s nothing sadder. Except perhaps a cart horse, Shut between two shafts And unable even to look sideways.
The trick...is to find the balance between the bright colors of humour and the serious issues of identity, self-loathing, and the possibility for intimacy and love when it seems no longer possible or, sadder yet, no longer necessary.”
And, sadder still, there always is a chorus of willing intellectuals to say calming words about benign or altruistic empires, as if one shouldn't trust the evidence of one's eyes watching the destruction and the misery and death brought by the latest mission civilizatrice.
Up until that point [the extinction of the dodo] it hadn't really clicked with man that an animal could just cease to exist. It was as if we hadn't realised that if we kill something, it simply won't be there any more. Ever. As a result of the extinction of the dodo we are sadder and wiser.
Foamfollower's question caught him wandering. "Are you a storyteller, Thomas Covenant?" Absently, he replied, "I was, once." "And you gave it up? Ah, that is as sad a tale in three words as any you might have told me. But a life without a tale is like a sea without salt. How do you live?" [...] "I live." "Another?" Foamfollower returned. "In two words, a story sadder than the first. Say no more—with one word you will make me weep."
If I was a better poet like William Carlos Williams I’d be able to write about anything, but I’m just a minor poet. So I just write about things like moments of crisis that tend to be on the sadder, darker side. You can spend ten minutes in a really dark place and write a song about it that lasts forever. Wertheimer, Linda (2007-06-23), (format: audio), John Doe: The 'X' Man Returns, work: Weekend Edition Saturday, publisher: National Public Radio, retrieved: 2008-06-02
Every single empire in its official discourse has said that it is not like all the others, that its circumstances are special, that it has a mission to enlighten, civilize, bring order and democracy, and that it uses force only as a last resort. And, sadder still, there always is a chorus of willing intellectuals to say calming words about benign or altruistic empires, as if one shouldn't trust the evidence of one's eyes watching the destruction and the misery and death brought by the latest mission civilizatrice.
There is no creature whose inward being is so strong that it is not greatly determined by what lies outside it. A new Theresa will hardly have the opportunity of reforming a conventual life, any more than a new Antigone will spend her heroic piety in daring all for the sake of a brother's burial: the medium in which their ardent deeds took shape is forever gone. But we insignificant people with our daily words and acts are preparing the lives of many Dorotheas, some of which may present a far sadder sacrifice than that of the Dorothea whose story we know.
Sexual dysfunction often plays a key role in risk management by couples over time. It seems crucial not to get too excited about the other, and diminished excitement serves the purposes at once of self-protection and revenge. I was once excited about you, the diminished arousal seems to be expressing, but there is not much to get excited about now. Often lovers work together to pretend they are safer (even if also a bit sadder) over time, by collapsing their expectations of each other in collusively arranged, choreographed routine. Each feels the other is less exciting because of being so familiar and predictable. And each acts towards the other in as wholly and artificially predictable a fashion as possible. But, of course, lowering expectations also empties out passion. No risk, no gain.
Even the discord of war is a detail on which the Abbey refuses to insist. Not till two centuries afterwards did the Mount take on the modern expression of war as a discord in God's providence. Then, in the early years of the fifteenth century, Abbot Pierre le Roy plastered the gate of the Châtelet as you now see it, over the sunny thirteenth-century entrance called Belle Chaise which had treated mere military construction with a sort of quiet contempt. You will know what a Châtelet is when you meet another; it frowns in a spirit quite alien to the twelfth century; it jars on the religion of the place; it forebodes wars of religion; dissolution of society; loss of unity; the end of a world. Nothing is sadder than the catastrophe of gothic art, religion and hope. ;Chapter IV Normandy and the Ile de France
He who suffers time to slip away and does not grow in virtue the more one thinks about him the sadder one becomes. No man has a capacity for virtue who sacrifices honour for gain. Fortune is powerless to help one who does not exert himself. That man becomes happy who follows Christ. There is no perfect gift without great suffering. Our triumphs and our pomps pass away; gluttony and sloth and enervating luxury have banished every virtue from the world; so that as it were wandering from its course our nature is subdued by habit. Now and henceforth it is meet that you cure yourself of laziness. The Master has said that sitting on down or lying under the quilts will not bring thee to fame. He who without it has frittered life away leaves no more trace of himself upon the earth than smoke does in the air or the foam on the water.
I wish you would mention the joy she had for life, that’s what she gave me. If she was the tragic figure they say she was, I would be a wreck, wouldn't I? It was her love of life that carried her through everything. The middle of the road was never for her — it bored her. She wanted the pinnacle of excitement. If she was happy, she wasn’t just happy, she was ecstatic. And when she was sad, she was sadder then anyone. She lived eight lives in one, and yet I thought she would outlive us all. She was a great star, and a great talent, and for the rest of my life I will be proud to be Judy Garland's daughter. It wasn’t suicide, it wasn’t sleeping pills, it wasn’t cirrhosis. I think she was just tired, like a flower that blooms and gives joy and beauty to the world and then wilts away.
The world in which we live is very nearly incomprehensible to most of us. There is almost no fact ...that will surprise us for very long, since we have no comprehensive and consistent picture of the world which would make the fact appear as an unacceptable contradiction. ...in a world without spiritual or intellectual order, nothing is unbelievable; nothing is predictable, and therefore, nothing comes as a particular surprise. ...The medieval world was... not without a sense of order. Ordinary men and women... had no doubt that there was such a design, and their priests were well able, by deduction from a handful of principles, to make it, if not rational, at least coherent. ...The situation we are presently in is much different. ...sadder and more confusing and certainly more mysterious. ...There is no consistent, integrated conception of the world which serves as the foundation on which our edifice of belief rests. And therefore... we are more naive than those of the Middle Ages, and more frightened, for we can be made to believe almost anything.
On Christmas Eve, a young boy with light in his eyes Looked deep into Santa’s, to Santa’s surprise And said as he sat on Santa’s broad knee, "I want your secret. Tell it to me." He leaned up and whispered in Santa’s good ear "How do you do it, year after year?" "I want to know how, as you travel about, Giving gifts here and there, you never run out. How is it, dear Santa, that in your pack of toys You have plenty for all of the world’s girls and boys? Stays so full, never empties, as you make your way From rooftop to rooftop, to homes large and small, From nation to nation, reaching them all?" And Santa smiled kindly and said to the boy, "Don’t ask me hard questions. Don’t you want a toy?" But the child shook his head, and Santa could see That he needed the answer. "Now listen to me," He told that small boy with the light in his eyes, "My secret will make you sadder and wise. "The truth is that my sack is magic inside It holds millions of toys for my Christmas Eve ride. But although I do visit each girl and each boy I don’t always leave them a gaily wrapped toy. Some homes are hungry, some homes are sad, Some homes are desperate, some homes are bad. Some homes are broken, and the children there grieve. Those homes I visit, but what should I leave? "My sleigh is filled with the happiest stuff, But for homes where despair lives toys aren’t enough. So I tiptoe in, kiss each girl and boy, And I pray with them that they’ll be given the joy Of the spirit of Christmas, the spirit that lives In the heart of the dear child who gets not, but gives. "If only God hears me and answers my prayer, When I visit next year, what I will find there Are homes filled with peace, and with giving, and love And boys and girls gifted with light from above. It’s a very hard task, my smart little brother, To give toys to some, and to give prayers to others. But the prayers are the best gifts, the best gifts indeed, For God has a way of meeting each person’s need. "That’s part of the answer. The rest, my dear youth,Is that my sack is magic. And that is the truth. In my sack I carry on Christmas Eve day More love than a Santa could ever give away. The sack never empties of love, or of joys `Cause inside it are prayers, and hope. Not just toys. The more that I give, the fuller it seems, Because giving is my way of fulfilling dreams. "And do you know something? You’ve got a sack, too. It’s as magic as mine, and it’s inside of you. It never gets empty, it’s full from the start. It’s the center of light, and love. It’s your heart. And if on this Christmas you want to help me, Don’t be so concerned with the gifts `neath your tree. Open that sack called your heart, and share Your joy, your friendship, your wealth, your care." The light in the small boy’s eyes was glowing. "Thanks for your secret. I’ve got to be going." "Wait, little boy," said Santa, "don’t go. Will you share? Will you help? Will you use what you know?" And just for a moment the small boy stood still, Touched his heart with his small hand and whispered, "I will".

End Sadder Quotes