A Quote by May Sarton

There are some griefs so loud/They could bring down the sky/And there are griefs so still/None knows how deep they lie. — © May Sarton
There are some griefs so loud/They could bring down the sky/And there are griefs so still/None knows how deep they lie.
I certainly have a lot to lament, as do we all, everybody has their griefs. But the griefs we can fix, shouldn't we go around fixing them?
Griefs upon griefs! Disappointments upon disappointments. What then? This is a gay, merry world notwithstanding.
In my craft or sullen art Exercised in the still night When only the moon rages And the lovers lie abed With all their griefs in their arms, I labour by singing light Not for ambition or bread Or the strut and trade of charms On the ivory stages But for the common wages Of their most secret heart. Not for the proud man apart From the raging moon I write On these spindrift pages Nor for the towering dead With their nightingales and psalms But for the lovers, their arms Round the griefs of the ages, Who pay no praise or wages Nor heed my craft or art.
Some of your griefs you have cured, And the sharpest you still have survived, But what torments of grief you've endured From evils that never arrived.
Know that death comes to everyone, and that wealth will sometimes be acquired, sometimes lost. Whatever griefs mortals suffer by divine chance, whatever destiny you have, endure it and do not complain. But it is right to improve it as much as you can, and remember this: Fate does not give very many of these griefs to good people.
One feels as if it could never, never be less. And yet all griefs, when there is no bitterness in them, are soothed down by time.
The highest honor that God can confer upon his children is the blood-red crown of martyrdom. The jewels of a Christian are his afflictions. The regalia of the kings that God has made, are their troubles, their sorrows, and their griefs. Griefs exalt us, and troubles lift us.
God heals the sicknesses and the griefs by making the sicknesses and the griefs his suffering and his grief. In the image of the crucified God the sick and dying can see themselves, because in them the crucified God recognizes himself.
In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs-and God has given my share- I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down.
all griefs, when there is no bitterness in them, are soothed down by time.
No temple can still the personal griefs and strifes in the breasts of its visitors.
If the internal griefs of every man could be read, written on his forehead, how many who now excite envy would appear to be the objects of pity?
Could my griefs speak, the tale would have no end.
A heavier task could not have been impos'd, Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable.
Everyone knows how to love,because we are all born with that gift.Some people have a natural talent for it but the majority of us have to re-learn,to remember how to love,and everyone,without exception,needs o burn on the bonfire of past emotions,to relieve certain joys and griefs,certain ups and downs,until they can see the connecting thread that exists behind each new encounter;because there is a connecting thread.
The creation itself is full of griefs. How can one understand joy if there is no sorrow? And how can everyone be happy at the same time?
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