Robert Cormier Quotes

The delta blues is a low-down, dirty shame blues. It's a sad, big wide sound, something to make you think about people who are dead or the women who left you.

Dark house, by which once more I stand Here in the long unlovely street, Doors, where my heart was used to beat So quickly, waiting for a hand, A hand that can be clasp'd no more - Behold me, for I cannot sleep, And like a guilty thing I creep At earliest morning to the door. He is not here; but far away The noise of life begins again, And ghastly thro' the drizzling rain On the bald street breaks the blank day.

the sentiment of immediate loss in some sort decayed, while that of utter, irremediable loneliness grew on me with time.

Nothing remained but loneliness and grief.

I realize full well how hard it must be to go on living alone in a place from which someone has left you, but there is nothing so cruel in this world as the desolation of having nothing to hope for.

Does the world have nothing inside but sorrow?

Sob, heavy world Sob as you spin, Mantled in mist Remote from the happy.

Mr. Brad Delp. J'ai une ame solitaire. I am a lonely soul.

Maybe I should quit the business. There's no one left for me to love. Mama's dead. Mr. Burns couldn't care less about me. What's left?

When thinking about companions gone, we feel ourselves doubly alone.

When it was all over, and I was left alone in my office, I put my face in my hands and wept. I could do nothing less.

I don't wanna make something depressing, I wanna make something sorrowful.

I understand the power of sorrow, and I understand how far it can take us from ourselves if we let it.

A face peered. All the grey night In chaos of vacancy shone; Nought but vast Sorrow was there The sweet cheat gone.

Sorrow's faded form, and solitude behind.

Desolation, desolation, I owe so much to desolation.

Little Words When you are gone, there is nor bloom nor leaf, Nor singing sea at night, nor silver birds; And I can only stare, and shape my grief In little words. I cannot conjure loveliness, to drown The bitter woe that racks my cords apart. The weary pen that sets my sorrow down Feeds at my heart. There is no mercy in the shifting year, No beauty wraps me tenderly about. I turn to little words- so you, my dear, Can spell them out.

My mother was gone. The whole world should be black and cold. Nothing should look beautiful.

This self now as I leant over the gate looking down over fields rolling in waves of colour beneath me made no answer. He threw up no opposition. He attempted no phrase. His fist did not form. I waited. I listened. Nothing came, nothing. I cried then with a sudden conviction of complete desertion. Now there is nothing. No fin breaks the waste of this immeasurable sea. Life has destroyed me. No echo comes when I speak, no varied words. This is more truly death than the death of friends, than the death of youth.

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, only darkness every day.

I was wishing I was invisible. Outside, the leaves were falling to the ground, and I was infinitely sad, sad down to my bones. I was sad for Phoebe and her parents and Prudence and Mike, sad for the leaves that were dying, and sad for myself, for something I had lost.

For since mine eyes your joyous sight did miss, my cheerful day is turned to cheerless night.

I know what my heart is like Since your love died: It is like a hollow ledge Holding a little pool Left there by the tide, A little tepid pool, Drying inward from the edge.

I am empty of everything. I am empty of everything but the thin, frail ghosts in my room.

Once there had been joy, but now there was only sadness, and it was not, he knew, alone the sadness of an empty house; it was the sadness of all else, the sadness of the Earth, the sadness of the failures and the empty triumphs.