Gregory David Roberts Quotes

The house of laughter makes a house of woe.

I wanted to understand pain and the human condition, which is full of pain and regret and sadness - and some happiness, if you're lucky.

I've always said you have to go through a lot of heartache in life to feel joy.

But remember that the pain of parting from friends will be felt by everybody at times, whatever be their education or state. Know your own happiness. You want nothing but patience; or give it a more fascinating name: call it hope.

Where there is love, there is bound to be heartache.

Therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer, or suffer from too much happiness. I hope you're getting this down.

You can't shut off the risk and the pain without losing the love that remains.

Many things can make you miserable for weeks; few can bring you a whole day of happiness.

I'm unhappy. I don't want to fall in love with you. It'll hurt far too much when it's over

When you get older, it feels like happy memories and sad memories are pretty much the same thing. It is all just emotion in the end. And any of it can make you weep.

I couldn’t help but think about school and everything else ending. I liked standing just outside the couches and watching them—it was a kind of sad I didn’t mind, and so I just listened, letting all the happiness and the sadness of this ending swirl around in me, each sharpening the other. For the longest time, it felt kind of like my chest was cracking open, but not precisely in an unpleasant way.

Sometimes one has suffered enough to have the right to never say: I am too happy.

It's been seven hours and fifteen days, since you took your love away.

Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain That has been, and may be again.

The saddest thing in life and the hardest to live through, is the knowledge that there is someone you love very much whom you cannot save from suffering.

Work saves us from melancholy. Pleasure exposes us to it.

Alas! sorrow from happiness is oft evolved.

I think for a minute. Watching my wife fade into the distance, I put a hand on my heart. "Dead." I wave a hand toward my wife. "Dead." My eyes drift toward the sky and lose their focus. "Want it...to hurt. But...doesn't." Julie looks at me like she's waiting for more, and I wonder if I've expressed anything at all with my halting, mumbled soliloquy. Are my words ever actually audible, or do they just echo in my head while people stare at me, waiting? I want to change my punctuation. I long for exclamation marks, but I'm drowning in ellipses.

Love is loss combined with pain.

I think of Grace and feel a sharp pain in my chest.

There were worse things than dying, and those worse things happened to the people you left behind.

Sometimes pain is easier to bear alone than happiness.

I'm tired and I'm sick to death of being without you.

Albums that remind me of my childhood happiness make me incredibly sad now.

Seems like just yesterday, you were a part of me. I used to stand so tall, I used to be so strong; your arms around me tight, everything felt so right - unbreakable, like nothing could go wrong. Now I can't breathe. No, I can't sleep; I'm barely hanging on. Here I am, once again, I'm torn into pieces. Can't deny it, can't pretend, just thought you were the one. Broken up, deep inside, but you won't get to see the tears I cry.