Anne Rice Quotes

Don't make me laugh, I'd much rather cry.

Tears are often to be found where there is little sorrow, and the deepest sorrow without any tears.

I cry all the time. Music makes me cry.

I laugh because I must not cry, that is all, that is all.

How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping?

I have often sung to drown my sorrow, but seldom to express my happiness. Crying for joy, and singing for joy, were alike uncommon to me while in the jaws of slavery. The singing of a man cast away upon a desolate island might be as appropriately considered as evidence of contentment and happiness, as the singing of a slave; the songs of the one and of the other are prompted by the same emotion.

Laughter isn't even the other side of tears. It is tears turned inside out. Truly the suffering is great, here on earth.

Her cry was the saddest sound of orgasm that I had ever heard.

Tears are at times as eloquent as words. [Weeping hath a voice.]

Weep like the waterwheel, that green herbs may spring up from the courtyard of your soul. If you wish for tears, have mercy on one who sheds tears; if you wish mercy, show mercy to the weak.

I wish to cry. Yet, I laugh, and my lipstick leaves a red stain like a bloody crescent moon on top of the beer can

When from soft love proceeds the deep distress, ah! why forbid the willing tears to flow?

The tears that you spill, the sorrowful, are sweeter than the laughter of snobs and the guffaws of scoffers.

Laughter or crying is what a human being does when there's nothing else he can do.

But what if music is what escapes when a heart breaks?

Joy, sorrow, tears, lamentation, laughter -- to all these music gives voice

if you cannot but weep when your soul summons you to prayer, she should spur you again and yet again, though weeping, until you shall come laughing

Even extreme grief may ultimately vent itself in violence--but more generally takes the form of apathy

So forgive me, love, if I cry in your shower. So forgive me, love, for the salt in your bed. So forgive me, love, if I cry all afternoon.

I write in blood because I remember what it felt like to bleed.

You who weep for pleasures fled, While dragging on a life of care, All your woes will melt in air, If to god your tears are shed, You who Weap!

All the rarest hues of human life take radiance and are rainbowed out in tears.

Laughter and weeping, the Greek masks of comedy and tragedy, mark the extremes of a continuous spectrum; both provide channels for the overflow of emotion; both are

I learn from my own daughter that you don’t have to be awake to cry.

After his blood, that which a man can next give out of himself is a tear.