William Shakespeare 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.

My greatest affliction... is perhaps the major theme of my writings, the affliction of loneliness that follows me like a shadow, a very ponderous shadow too heavy to drag after me all of my days and nights.

And here am I, budding among the ruins with only sorrow to bite on, as if weeping were a seed and I the earth's only furrow.

But solitude is sadness.' 'Yes; it is sadness. Life, however, has worse than that. Deeper than melancholy lies heart-break.

I imagine there's a market for total depression. I grew up on George Jones and that really dark stuff.

I have the true feeling of myself only when I am unbearably unhappy.

In the country of pain we are each alone.

I lived and languished.

Fans say I have a lot of sorrow in my eyes. It's true.

I have heartaches, I have blues. No matter what you got, the blues is there. 'Cause that's all I know - the blues. And I can sing the blues so deep until you can have this room full of money and I can give you the blues.

What makes loneliness an anguish is not that I have no one to share my burden, but this: I have only my own burden to bear.

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

Nobody can tell you how the blues feel unless they have the blues. We all take it differently.

Christmas makes everything twice as sad.

I was a very sad little girl.

If a documentary crew were to follow me around, they'd probably think they were making a film about the saddest person in the world.

A lot of my songs are about loneliness and losing relationships. Even the ones that are happy, there's a lonely undertone to them.

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

He was persuaded he could know no happiness but in the society of one with whom he could for ever indulge the melancholy that had taken possession of his soul.

I felt so lonesome I most wished I was dead. The stars were shining, and the leaves rustled in the woods ever so mournful; and I heard an owl, away off, who-whooing about somebody that was dead, and a whippowill and a dog crying about somebody that was going to die.

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

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.

I'm afraid to be on this shore a trunk without limbs, and what I most regret is not to have flower, pulp, or clay for the worm of my suffering.

It's the only condition I know. Bitter Love, Loneliness, contempt for corruption, blind hope. It's where I live. A permanent state of bereavement. This is nothing new.