Irving Stone Quotes

There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.

O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?

I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart for the joys of the multitude. And I would not have the tears that sadness makes to flow from my every part turn into laughter. I would that my life remain a tear and a smile.

In vain would I seek to discover Why sad and mournful am I, My thoughts without ceasing brood over A tale of the time gone by.

In deep sadness there is no place for sentimentality.

When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough.

I think whenever you lose somebody close to you, there's always a part of you that wishes you could have done something differently.

There is no greater sorrow Than to be mindful of the happy time In misery

All the best songs have an element of sadness.

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.

Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.

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.

...an everlasting funeral marches round your heart.

My heart is tuned to sorrow, and the strings Vibrate most readily to minor chords, Searching and sad; my mind is stuffed with words Which voice the passion and the ache of things: Illusions beating with their baffled wings Against the walls of circumstance.

Fro and to in my dreams to you To the haunting tune of the harp For the price I paid when you died that day I paid that day with my heart Fro and to in my dreams to you With the breaking of my heart Ne'er more again will I sing this song Ne'er more will I hear the harp.

Sorrow is properly that state of the mind in which our desires are fixed upon the past without looking forward to the future.

Each substance of a grief has twenty shadows.

Sorrow lies like a heartbeat behind everything I have written.

Beauty is ever to the lonely mind a shadow fleeting; she is never plain. She is a visitor who leaves behind the gift of grief, the souvenir of pain.

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

I suppose I'm interested in sorrow, which is very different from depression or despair. Sorrow is continuous with the world; it allows for creativity.

It would be a lie to say that people are coming to adoption with joy at all times. Hope, perhaps, but it would be disingenuous to say that every part coming to an adoption isn't seriously grieving.

There is no worse sorrow than remembering happiness in the day of sorrow.

And all the winds go sighing, for sweet things dying.