Quotes about cry

Don't cry over the shots you've missed weep over the ones you've not taken at all. The bitterest regrets are for things planned but left undone!

I lived my grief I slept mourning and ate sorrow and drank tears. I ignored all else.

Lately I find myself staring at people’s faces... I find myself frantically searching through the crowds for one face. I don’t find that face I cry inside. Weeping for the identity I know no more.

Tears are only for those who care to see you sad a badly broken heart never cries.

Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.

And now, my poor old woman, why are you crying so bitterly? It is autumn. The leaves are falling from the trees like burning tears- the wind howls. Why must you mimic them?

Rosy lifted her arm, tried to say something, then pointed at the cafe, held her head, covered her mouth and—humiliation of humiliations—she began to cry. Right there in the street. “I’m so confused,” she said but it came out as a great honking wail.“Come here, you silly girl,” Phyllis said.The woman put her arms around Rosy, patted her back, and for the first time in forever, Rosy allowed herself to just cry.A young mother with twins in a pram passed them. The children’s eyes tracked Rosy for a

Each tear being shed holds a thousand pounds of truth.

Put my head under my pillow, and let the quiet put things where they are supposed to be.

When we see others cry it is difficult, not because of feeling their pain, but your own.

His other hand finds my cheek, and he wipes away my tears with his thumb. The chocolate scent overwhelms me as he bends over and whispers in my ear, “No, Cassie. No, no, no.”I throw my arm around his neck and press his dry cheek against my wet one. I’m shaking like an epileptic, and for the first time I can feel the weight of the quilts on the top of my toes because the blinding dark sharpens your other senses.I’m a bubbling stew of random thoughts and feelings. I’m worried my hair might smell.

We want books that are written for those of us who doubt everything, who cry over the least little thing, who are startled by the slightest noise.

He cried, almost entire night. He cried alone in his small shed. That was only game that he could play without needing another person to participate.

Those million mistakes you did may not make you cry, but the ones you dint try might make you to.

She cried aloud, with a great mourning cry for all that she had never known in this life, and the agony of a bereavement unguessed till this moment.

I follow the path we’ve taken so many times this summer – across the front, down the street, cut back through a neighbor’s yard, down the stairs to the beach, past the pier, through the campfire labyrinth, up to the deck of the Shack, and straight into Sam’s arms. Without speaking, he kisses me hard on the mouth and I kiss him back, sobbing and crumpling into his chest like a broken puppet.

She lit fire to the bridges and forts she built all these years, and she walked into it smiling and tears rolling down her cheeks.

I feel there will be a time. A time when there will be no agony. I will never cry. There will come a time when my smile will be genuine. You will be able to tell. I feel there will come a time when the winds will carry all the wrinkles away when the rain will bring beauty with it when the sun shine will carry the birds my way. When the flowers will be welcome in this world. The pain I feel will not stay forever. Nothing will last. The good brought bad with it. I know the bad has already begun. W

You must have traveled all night,” she heard herself say. “I had to come back early.” She felt his lips brush her tumbled hair. “I left some things unfinished. But I had a feeling you might need me. Tell me what’s happened, sweetheart.” Amelia opened her mouth to answer, but to her mortification, the only sound she could make was a sort of miserable croak. Her self-control shattered. She shook her head and choked on more sobs, and the more she tried to stop them, the worse they became. Cam gripp

When you love someone, truly love them, you lay your heart open to them. You give them a part of yourself that you give to no one else, and you let them inside a part of you that only they can hurt-you literally hand them the razor with a map of where to cut deepest and most painfully on your heart and soul. And when they do strike, it’s crippling-like having your heart carved out.

God will hear your cry even when your voice can't shout out loud unto him. He will see your tears even when can no longer shed any.

I cry as the laughter inside me drowns and descends into the water with the ghosts of our union.

Sometimes you want to cry but the tears deceive you, but at other, you just want to hold the tears but they disobey you.

Sunny held Kit, and Violet held Klaus, and for a minute the four castaways did nothing but weep, letting their tears run down their faces and into the sea, which some have said is nothing but a library of all tears in history.

Tears will not fill your stomach; Tears will not bring kindness. If you have time to shed tears, laugh; someone will be willing to look at a hearty smile more then a tear soaked sponge.

Hana?" Lena says softly. "Are you okay?"That single stupid question breaks me. All the metal fingers relax me at once, and the tears they've been holding back come surging up at once. Suddenly I am sobbing and telling her everything: about the raid, and the dogs, and the sounds of skulls cracking underneath regulator's nightsticks. Thinking about it again makes me feel like I might puke. At a certain point, Lena puts her arms around me and starts murmuring things into my hair. I don't even know

She didn't mind a little rain. At least no one would see her cry.

If we didn't have strong feelings, how could we love or fight? When our flesh is cut, we bleed. When our heart is broken, we cry. There's nothing wrong with that. It only becomes a problem when it gets in the way of what you have to do. You can't crumble when others are counting on you.

An answering smile drifted across his tanned face. "What is mine, I intend tokeep.

But he knew instinctively what he suggested was impossible. She'd been through so much, and held her tears back for so long, that Royce doubted that anything could force her to shed them.

Lying there, feeling safe in his tight embrace, a tear escaped my resolute eye and darkened his purple shirt. I usually do not cry when I am afraid, but invariably did when I felt safe and cocooned, like I felt in the confines of his strong, sure arms.

Tears are not thorns.

I sob and clutch my stuffed bunny. Nick leaps up on my bed and squashes his body against mine, nuzzling my face with his muzzle until I lift it enough for him to lick away my tears.While the pixie rages downstairs, I wrap my arms around Nick’s furry body and cry into him. My shoulders quake from the effort of it. He whimpers once or twice and tries to lick my face some more, but mostly he watches the door, and eventually I stop with the pathetic sobbing stuff and just keep crying.

He didn’t mind Drake so much. Drake was a creep.It was the girl who made Orc want to cry.She was a monster. Like Orc. Begging for death. Begging for someone to let her go to her Jesus.Kill me, kill me, kill me, she begged every day and every night.Orc took a deep swig.Tears seeped from his human eyes and fell into the rocky crevices of his face.

Day after day you find a way to make this grown man cry.

I'll never let it happen. I'll do everything in my power to keep my sister at home."I don't want to have a civilized discussion. My parents want to send my sister to a facility behind my back and my head feels like it's about to split open. Leave me alone, okay?"Something is sticking out of my pocket. It's Alex's bandanna. Isabel isn't a friend, yet she helped me. And Alex, a boy who cared about me last night more than my own boyfriend did, acted as my hero and is urging me to be real. Do I even

I thought you were dead,” I say. “It almost killed me.”“Did it?” His voice is neutral. “You made a pretty fast recovery.”“No. You don’t understand.” My throat is tight; I feel as though I’m being strangled. “I couldn’t keep hoping, and then waking up every day and finding out it wasn’t true, and you were still gone. I—I wasn’t strong enough.”He is quiet for a second. It’s too dark to see his expression: He is standing in shadow again, but I can sense that he is staring at me.Finally he says, “Wh

Don't cry for someone who would love smiling when your tears are flowing.

So you want we to play a game?...Aha, I like that...!I FUCKING LOVE IT!

The dead shouldn’t cry, not even the lesser dead.

Crying doesn't make you weak. There's sixteen years of tears in that body of yours, and you have to let some of it go.

It is useless to cry over a thing which is not belong to you....

No, my young apprentice. You said the exact right thing. Again. I'm just laughing at life.""Why?" he asked, opening both his eyes."Because sometimes it's either laugh or cry. I prefer laugh. How about you?

When was the last time you had a good belly-shaking-tear-jerking-snot-producing laugh?That long?

It's rally bad when dads cry.

I will love you like the desert burns along the sun when they are together,and when you will be gone,just like every one else,I will cry for you like the snow that melts at the first hint of summer...and hoping that you'll be backI will miss you like the clouds lose themselves when it rains...

You will never see me surrender, never see me cry, but you will often see me walk away. Turn around and just leave, without looking back.

Death gets a bad rap. People think that euthanasia is putting their pets “down” when it really is lifting us up. In the first moment, when we come back to earth, we remember the comfort of the Heaven we came from and this is why we cry when we are born. When we are born in Heaven we come in laughing not crying! In birth we have the passage and then the pain. In death we have the pain and then the passage.

He placed his hand on Willem's arm. 'Willem, don't cry.''I'm not going to,' he said. 'I can do other things in life besides cry, you know,' although he was no longer sure that was even true.

They wouldn’t have understood if they found him crying, when he woke and remembered all at once that he had once had a wife and child, so they never found him this way.

if woman cries ,it doesn't matter , but if a man cry it matter

My wife and I said good-bye the next morning in a little sheltered place among the lumber on the wharf; she was one of your women who never like to do their crying before folks.She climbed on the pile of lumber and sat down, a little flushed and quivery, to watch us off. I remember seeing her there with the baby till we were well down the channel. I remember noticing the bay as it grew cleaner, and thinking that I would break off swearing; and I remember cursing Bob Smart like a pirate within an

I could lose my mind, your love drives me crazy, and I ignore the reason why I'm crying at everytime I remember it's not reciprocal and you're saying that you're sorry because you don't show everything.

If your eyes can not cry, then your gut will."The head and heart may be in denial of your human needs, but the gut will always carry the wisdom of your needs met and unmet, and thusly respond.

She screamed. Her screaming was beautiful. But, truth be told he missed the crying.

I can't remember how to cry.

Why do we cry when somebody die, we can't bring him, back we just lose time crying and feeling miserable and after few days we just find that we can't bring him! (Note: I have Written a story about my dog which died, in the series of The Life Of One KId)

Sometimes there a hundred lies behind a smile and not a single truth behind a tear.

At some point, I had to start laughing, because I was all wrung out from crying.

... sometimes in life, you either laugh or you cry. And I prefer to laugh.

We seem to live in a world where you have to walk around grinning like a loon. I can’t understand all the fuss about Mona Lisa painting, everyone wondering why she’s not smiling, if she’s depressed or heartbroken. No, she was just normal!Emotions are always extreme these days: you either have to be crying with laughter or crying in pain. No wonder water levels are rising. It’s not global warming, it’s all the tears from crying.

If you are thinking whether to cry or laugh, cry.

My entire soul is a cry, and all my work is a commentary on that cry.

Organize, agitate, educate, must be our war cry.

Watch a movie that makes you laugh or listen to a song that makes you cry. Embrace your emotions and be proud of what you feel.

Your only problem, perhaps, is that you scream without letting yourself cry.

Don't cry about it. Write about it.

She didn't shed a tear. Angels don't cry.

Take time to laugh, to talk, to hug, and to cry. These are the human relief valves.

A friend is he who can feel your heart's beating and dance with it when it is joyful, cry with it when it is torn, and inspire when it is in need.

You get confused by crying women, I get confused by walks with princes.

let yourself cry, OK? One of the worst feelings in the world is being unable to cry and eventually it…starts to make things darker.

Oh yes, even I cry. Just not over you. Who is "you?" The one who has to ask or the one who doesn't?

When they know what makes you cry, they know what hurts you most. Don't give your enemies that." Solin, character in The Guardian by Sherrilyn Kenyon

She was dry, dry inside like a ten-thousand-year-old tomb, with the last of her life barely dampening the dirt underneath.

Jennifer Merrick had stored all her tears inside her, and her pride and courage would never permit her to break down and shed them.

Two questions form the foundation of all novels: "What if?" and "What next?" (A third question, "What now?", is one the author asks himself every 10 minutes or so; but it's more a cry than a question.) Every novel begins with the speculative question, What if "X" happened? That's how you start.

Akinli, this strange boy whose life at the moment seemed to be hanging on this, pushed himself from the bed.Julie gasped, watching as his arms trembled under his weight, even as thin as he was. He crushed his eyes together in concentration, willing himself up.I heard Ben whisper to himself, “Come on, come on, come on.”When Akinli, breathing as if he truly had just run a marathon, was fairly close to upright, he held out an arm for me.I fell into it fearlessly.We leaned into each other, neither o

Don't cry after my death . with smiling face send me to heaven.

Even heaven would become hell if you were alone in it, or away from a loved one. And even if you were with your loved one, but in hell, eventually you would cry to have you and your loved one together in heaven. So to create your own heaven on earth, make sure you and your loved one are in a place you both love, because what could be heaven for one, could be hell for the other.

I wouldn't mindif life left me...winglessburnt to cindersripped by stormsscattered...like weedscelestially woundedwithout cherry blossomsto perish withbut I would crywith head held in my handsif it left me...unfulfilled.

I want my mom,” a little boy cried out suddenly.Every voice fell silent. The boy had said what they were all feeling.Caine hopped down from the car and went to the boy. He knelt down and took the boy’s hands in his own. He asked the boy’s name, and reintroduced himself. “We all want our parents back,” he said gently, but loudly enough to be overheard clearly by those nearest. “We all want that. And I believe that will happen. I believe we will see all our moms and dads, and older brothers and si

It did no good to cry, she had learned that early on.

Drake's whip hand spun Diana like a top.She cried out. That sound, her cry, pierced Caine like an arrow.Diana staggered and almost righted herself, but Drake was too quick, too ready.His second strike yanked her through the air. She flew and then fell.“Catch her!” Caine was yelling to himself. Seeing her arc as she fell. Seeing where she would hit. His hands came up, he could use his power, he could catch her, save her. But too slow.Diana fell. Her head smashed against a jutting point of rock. S

Love more, hurt less. Laugh more, cry less. Live more, worry less. Give more, take less. Hug more, fight less. And most important.. Remember that we are all one! We are love! I LOVE YOU ALL!

Incessant smiling is one of the deadly tools used by someone whose intent is to make others cry.

When you're threatened, or something hard hits you, acknowledge it, embrace it. Don't pretend that you didn't get hurt - hurt, cry, think about it. And then you let it go and try something else.

Don’t want no more rock,” Orc repeated.The bleeding stopped almost immediately.“Does it hurt?” Lana asked. “I mean the rock. I know the hole hurts.”“No. It don’t hurt.” Orc slammed his fist against his opposite arm, hard enough that any human arm would have been shattered. “I barely feel it. Even Drake’s whip, when we was fighting, I barely felt it.”Suddenly he was weeping. Tears rolled from human eyes onto cheeks of flesh and pebbles.“I don’t feel nothing except…” He pointed a thick stone finge

We feel the same emotions for our ideas as we do for the real world, which is why we can cry while reading a book, or fall in love with movie stars.

People not cry 'coztheir weak,It Beacaus They've been srong...GFor too long !!

Comfort came in and stood with an appearance of guilt and shame. Her head bent, her eyes soaked with tears, her hands and legs, vibrating like a guiter string as perspiration covered her entire body, she felt like disappearing into the thin air, maybe to another mind creating world.

A child's cry touches a father's heart, and our King is the Father of his people. If we can do no more than cry it will bring omnipotence to our aid. A cry is the native language of a spiritually needy soul; it has done with fine phrases and long orations, and it takes to sobs and moans; and so, indeed, it grasps the most potent of all weapons, for heaven always yields to such artillery.

The worse thing I have done in my life is Diary writing.... a wastage of time, wastage of papers filled with some imaginary feelings and bunch of silly activities done each day.... I cant feel any glimpse of appreciable work done by me, as whatever right I did, my Diary says " you were suppose to do it, so it was not a big deal....huhhh..." I passed my last few nights in reading most of its pages.... "I laughed on the lines telling about my saddest moments and nights when I cried….. but I felt w

Instead of hating, my heart cries mercy! Mercy on me! Mercy on me! Mercy on me!

People cry, not because they're weak, it's because they've been strong for too long.

Elizabeth had never been more at a loss to make her feelings appear what they were not. It was necessary to laugh, when she would rather have cried.

Hence the migratory bird was about to leave then the other bird just querked and weeped

I've had enough of these streets that sweat a cold, yellow slime, of hostile people, of crying myself to sleep every night. I've had enough of thinking, enough of remembering.

Whenever she felt like crying, she would instead become angry—at someone else or at herself—which meant that it was rare for her to shed tears.