Nora Ephron Quotes

I've found out why people laugh. They laugh because it hurts so much . . . because it's the only thing that'll make it stop hurting.

My way is the sensitive, emotional way, because that's who I am. A day doesn't go by where I don't sit and cry, listening to the stories. I try to be the clown and court jester and make people laugh.

I almost never cry, and it's something I don't like about myself. I sometimes try and make myself cry. Sometimes, when I'm in pain, I say if I could just cry it would make it so much easier.

It's occurred to me I need to laugh at myself more, and that I don't need to be some sad folk singer all the time. I don't want to be the queen of pain.

I can cry all day long - that's easy for me.

I'm a crier. You won't see me lashing out, but you will see me crying a lot.

After I lost my fiance, it seemed like it would be better to always be alone than to risk being hurt again.

It's good to actually cry. Trust me, I've had a lot of practice over the years!

I cry all the time. Music makes me cry.

You can cry, ain't no shame in it.

To truly laugh, you must be able to take your pain, and play with it!

Things that I feel really sad about, I talk about. That way, if it's funny, it doesn't hurt anymore.

Saying things on paper that I would never, ever say, and saying things to myself, admitting things to myself, about myself and my personality, just putting it on paper, is how I deal with emotional pain.

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

I am a grenade," I said again. "I just want to stay away from people and read books and think and be with you guys because there's nothing I can do about hurting you: You're too invested, so just please let me do that, okay? "I'm going to go to my room and read for awhile, okay? I'm fine. I really am fine: I just want to go read for a while.

All the energy of their frustration and fear going into their laughter.

Alone in her shelter, she allowed herself tears. When her shelter cooled to the touch she called to Gull, “Coming out!” She eased her head out into the smoky air, looked over at Gull. She imaged they both looked like a couple of sweaty, parboiled turtles climbing out of their shells. “Hello, gorgeous.” She laughed. It hurt her throat, but she laughed. “Hey, handsome.

Alice started to cry. It came with no sound, no shuddering, no childlike hysterics, just a soul-deep release that turned into moisture and dripped down her puffy pink cheeks. She touched her tears, frowning. Then she looked up at Julia and whimpered two words before she fell asleep. ‘Real hurts.’

Crying is part of the adventure.

I'm sixty-eight, I cry every chance I can.

We laugh, that we may not cry.

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

I didn't want to talk about what happened, so it seemed safest not to talk at all.

Do you know what I think about crying? I think some people have to learn to do it. But once you learn, once you know how to really cry, there's nothing quite like it. I feel sorry for those who don't know the trick. It's like whistling or singing.

I found when I was a child that if I put the hurt into words, it would go.