Yes, I am sad, sad as a circus-lioness, sad as an eagle without wings, sad as a violin with only one string and that one broken, sad as a woman who is growing old. Sad, sad, sad.
The Wise Man is square but not sharp, honest but not not malign, straight but not severe, bright but not dazzling.
He is a hard man who is only just, and a sad one who is only wise.
My family was too serious. They didn't take care of me - it was a very serious and severe life. Not severe in a bad way; just boring - like totally neutral. I felt no emotion.
Be wise, because the world needs more wisdom. And if you cannot be wise, pretend to be someone who is wise, and then just behave like they would.
Yes, as an oppressed people, American Indians have this epic burden, but first and foremost, they're human: sometimes a mess, sometimes funny or sad, at times very wise, and other times not wise at all - a lot like me.
The saddest kind of sad is the sad that tries not to be sad. You know, when sad tries to bite its lip and not cry, and smile and say, "No I'm happy for you"? Thats when it's really sad.
And just then he realized in a flash that men have only this sad knowledge with which to heal themselves: when you lose life, you grow wise. But that is better than maiming life to hold it.
It's not that I was crazy. It's just that I was sad at times because the world was sad at times. When I would perform, it wasn't sad anymore.
A sad, wise valor is the brave complexion.
Poverty makes you sad as well as wise.
E! has just become a sad, sad place to live. They don't know what they're doing; they have no ideas... everything they do just is a failure.
I suffer from depression. Severe cases of it. Not one case of depression, not a severe case, but severe cases of depression. Music is my only outlet, it's therapeutic to me. It's a release. It's how I vent emotionally.
And through meditation comes wisdom - not through studying books, not through scriptures. Through scriptures one can become knowledgeable but no wise. and knowledgeable people are sad, they are bound to be sad because all their knowledge is borrowed. There can be no song in it.
I was wishing I was invisible. Outside, the leaves were falling to the ground, and I was infinitely sad, sad down to my bones. I was sad for Phoebe and her parents and Prudence and Mike, sad for the leaves that were dying, and sad for myself, for something I had lost.