#melancholy

It is better, however, for his own reputation that the story-teller should risk a few actions for libel on account of these unfortunate coincidences than that he should adopt the melancholy device of using blanks or asterisks. ↗

— James Payn

#actions #adopt #asterisks #better #blanks

You felt a deep sorrow, the kind of melancholy you feel when you're in a beautiful place and the sun is going down ↗

— Thrity Umrigar

#sad #sorrow #beauty

The gods are strange. It is not our vices only they make instruments to scourge us. They bring us to ruin through what in us is good, gentle, humane, loving. ↗

— Oscar Wilde

#love

You're in a bad way! Apparently, you have developed a soul. ↗

— Yevgeny Zamyatin

#freedom

Stigmata of Love A light which lives on what the flames devour, a grey landscape surrounding me with scorch, a crucifixion by a single wound, a sky and earth that darken by each hour, a sob of blood whose red ribbon adorns a lyre without a pulse, and oils the torch, a tide which stuns and strands me on the reef, a scorpion scrambling, stinging in my chest-- this is the wreath of love, this bed of thorns is where I dream of you stealing my rest, haunting these sunken ribs cargoed with grief. I sought the peak of prudence, but I found the hemlock-brimming valley of your heart, and my own thirst for bitter truth and art. ↗

— Federico García Lorca

#melancholy #pain #art

He really had experienced every tiniest increment of time in the four decades since then, and yet here he was surprised to be suddenly old and crippled. Turned out the rope didn't care if you noticed every daisy on the path to the gallows. ↗

— Chris Cleave

#death #life #melancholy #old #time

Melancholy is no bad thing. ↗

— Sting

#bad thing #melancholy #thing

My earlier poems were sadder than my poems are today, perhaps because I wrote them in confusion or when I was unhappy. But I am not a melancholy person, quite the contrary, no one enjoys laughing more than I do. ↗

— Anne Stevenson

#because #confusion #contrary #earlier #enjoys

A poet is a nightingale who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. ↗

— Percy Bysshe Shelley

#poets

Melancholy: an appetite no misery satisfies. ↗

— Emil Cioran

#melancholy #misery #syllogism #misery