Bertrand Russell Quotes

Does the world have nothing inside but sorrow?

Dear little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘you tell me of marvelous things, but more marvelous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery.

Life is the saddest thing there is, next to death.

Were a stranger to drop on a sudden into this world, I would show him, as a specimen of its ills, a hospital full of diseases, a prison crowded with malefactors and debtors, a field of battle strewed with carcasses, a fleet foundering in the ocean, a nation languishing under tyranny, famine, or pestilence. To turn the gay side of life to him, and give him a notion of its pleasures; whither should I conduct him? to a ball, to an opera, to court? He might justly think, that I was only showing him a diversity of distress and sorrow.

It had ceased raining in the night and he walked out on the road and called for the dog. He called and called. Standing in that inexplicable darkness. Where there was no sound anywhere save only the wind. After a while he sat in the road. He took off his hat and placed it on the tarmac before him and he bowed his head and held his face in his hands and wept. He sat there for a long time and after a while the east did gray and after a while the right and godmade sun did rise, once again, for all and without distinction.

I'm attracted to pathos, because life is mostly pathos. I've had a lot of it in my life.

This life of being a transient human being has gotten to a point when it's very hard to bear.

I had never felt so lonely and so sad in my entire life.

Loneliness comes with life.

I lived and languished.

Fans say I have a lot of sorrow in my eyes. It's true.

It's a terrible feeling being lonely.

You know that day after day of, Oh God what am I going to do with myself feeling? The fear of the emptiness that it implies keeps me going.

Lonesome. Lonesome. I know what it means. Here all by my lonesome, dreaming empty dreams. Weary. Weary at the close of day, wondering if tomorrow brings me joy or sorrow.

Sob, heavy world Sob as you spin, Mantled in mist Remote from the happy.

Man is born in a day, and he dies in a day, and the thing is easily over; but to have a sick heart for three-fourths of one's lifetime is simply to have death renewed every morning; and life at that price is not worth living.

Life is full of misery, loneliness, and suffering - and it's all over much too soon.

We don't live in the Garden. We live far from Eden. Every life is full of heartaches. Every life, frankly, is unspeakably sad.

Life is hard. Not great. Kind of tragic.

Most of life is sad.

If I was to say I had a life, that would be a lie.

There is a lot of sadness in America.

Certain things will always hurt: rejection, or loss.

It's very hard to be happy when you've lost.