Frederic Chopin Quotes

I love the tragic side. I don't do 'happy' onstage. I like the dark, the disturbed.

Come all ye that pass by, and see if there is any sorrow like unto my sorrow.

When we focus on our pain, our ache deepens.

In the country of pain we are each alone.

Sorrow lies like a heartbeat behind everything I have written.

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.

I lived and languished.

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

I will indulge my sorrows, and give way to all the pangs and fury of despair.

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.

This tragic brow, these closed eyes, eyebrows raised and knotted.

Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery's shadow or reflection: the fact that you don't merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief.

But there are other things than dissipation that thicken the features. Tears, for example.

I have shed many tears of pain and indignation.

My music comes from heartbreak - from feeling what it's like to lose everything and not being able to express it through words because it doesn't make sense.

Everybody has their pain.

What is more miserable than discontent?

One bitter time of mourning, I remember, When day, and night, my sad heart did complain, My life, I said, was one cold, bleak December, And all its pleasures, were but whited pain.

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.

For us there is only one season, the season of sorrow. The very sun and moon seem taken from us.

No sadness is greater than in misery to rehearse memories of joy.

Tragedy is restful: and the reason is that hope, that foul, deceitful thing, has no part in it.

Poets have always celebrated grief as one of the deepest human emotions.

It is foolish to tear one's hair in grief, as though sorrow would be made less by baldness.