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.

The zipper displaces the button and a man lacks just that much time to think while dressing at dawn, a philosophical hour, and thus a melancholy hour.

Wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which one fills up faster.

Spell < tear=dropps > with a dubble < p > at the end, and use a < = > to join the words — I find it looks much more melancholy; ergo, more correct -:

The man must have a rare recipe for melancholy, who can be dull in Fleet Street.

To muse for long unwearied hours with my attention riveted to some frivolous device upon the margin, or in the typography of a book — to become absorbed for the better part of a summer’s...

In the park which surrounded our house were the ruins of the former mansion of Brentwood, a much smaller and less important house than the solid Georgian edifice which we inhabited. The ruins were picturesque,...

,Dónde está el olvido si cada caricia que me dan es tuya?

Melancholy is an escape not from reality, but unreality of the world.

Sometimes it’s your fragrance that comes to me, out of the blue, on a crowded road in a Sunday afternoon.But more often, it’s memories of us that cross my mind almost every lone evening.All I...

The soulless have no need of melancholia

An unchangeable colour rules over the melancholic: his dwelling is a space the colour of mourning. Nothing happens in it. No one intrudes. It is a bare stage where the inert I is assisted by...

I enjoy melancholic music and art. They take me to places I don’t normally get to go.

Who can explain the secret pathos of Nature’s loveliness? It is a touch of melancholy inherited from our mother Eve. It is an unconscious memory of the lost Paradise. It is the sense that even...

Lincoln’s story confounds those who see depression as a collection of symptoms to be eliminated. But it resonates with those who see suffering as a potential catalyst of emotional growth. “What man actually needs,” the...

She smiles, and her eyes look as if they can see back into her memory, into all the things that have gone into making a person what they are.

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

Where does your soul go when you die in Hell?

On a certain day in the blue-moon month of SeptemberBeneath a young plum tree, quietlyI held her there, my quiet, pale belovedIn my arms just like a graceful dream.And over us in the beautiful summer...

I think it takes an amazing amount of energy to convince oneself that the Forever Person isn’t just around the corner. In the end I believe we never do convince ourselves. I know that I...

That’s most interesting. But I was no more a mind-reader then than today. Iwas weeping for an altogether different reason. When I watched you dancing that day, I saw something else. I saw a new...

I sometimes think about old tombs and weedsThat interwreathe among the bones of kingsWith cold and poisonous berry and black flower:Or ruminate upon the skulls of steedsFrailer than shells and on those luminous wings -The...

She smiled. She was happy, yet sad. Life had never been more bittersweet. She looked at the sunset. The pink sky was sinking into the deep blue ocean. It was almost as if the sky...

O üzüntü birdenbire gelir. Hava yağmurludur. Bir sonu gelmeyecek başlangıç. Böyle sürüp gidecek gibidir her şey. Öyle ki, çocuklar ile çirkindir.

If you close your eyes when you sing in Latin, and if you stand right at the back so you can keep one hand against the cold stone wall of the church, you can pretend...

Writing is a defence against boredom, but it’s also a cure for melancholy.

I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow.

Se nu er jeg borte fra byens larm ogtrængsel og aviser og mennesker, jeg erflygtet fra det altsammen fordi det igjenkaldte på mig fra landet og ensomhetenhvor jeg er fra. Du skal se det kommertil...

There can be few places more conducive to the quiet, solitary contemplation of melancholy thoughts than a window-seat; and if beyond the window-panes there is a steely vignette of November murk and withered twigs, so...

Youth is an intoxication without wine, someone says. Life is an intoxication. The only sober man is the melancholiac, who, disenchanted, looks at life, sees it as it really is, and cuts his throat. If...

I, sometimes, fear that probably I’ll just keep changing cities, and may be someday I’ll also travel the world, but never find another soul who thinks exactly the way I do.

Autumn is as joyful and sweet as an untimely end.

Je pensais de meme que notre jeunesse etait finie et le bonheur manqué. I thought too that our youth was over and we had failed to find happiness.

To be happy to be sad and sad to be happy is to sing an echo in that beautiful language called Sorrow.

I am my heart’s undertaker. Daily I go and retrieve its tattered remains, place them delicately into its little coffin, and bury it in the depths of my memory, only to have to do it...

If you tell someone you have depression, they will often say, “Oh, I’ve been depressed before, too.” The difference lies between being depressed and having depression. Everyone’s been depressed at one time or another, but...

Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph that liv’st unseenWithin thy airy shellBy slow Meander’s margent green,And in the violet-imbroider’d valeWhere the love-lorn nightingaleNightly to thee her sad song mourneth well:Canst thou not tell me of a gentle...

Name me no names for my disease,With uninforming breath;I tell you I am none of these,But homesick unto death —Homesick for hills that I had known,For brooks that I had crossed,…Before I met this flesh...

Was I prone to sadness and melancholy? How could anyone like that? It wasn’t that I wanted it; it was that I was so used to hard rains, I couldn’t help expecting a cloudburst every...

Cut my life into pizzas. this is my plastic fork. oven baking, no breathing, dont give a fuck if its carbs that i’m eating’ -Catherine Spann

Melancholy is at the bottom of everything, just as at the end of all rivers is the sea. Can it be otherwise in a world where nothing lasts, where all that we have loved or...

Perhaps she would have liked to confide all these things to someone. But how tell an undefinable uneasiness, variable as the clouds, unstable as the winds? Words failed her—the opportunity, the courage.

…another comber of far pleasure followed the first, for his books came suddenly before his eyes, row upon row of volumes, row upon priceless row of calf-bound Thought, of philosophy and fiction, of travel and...

Ah God! to see the branches stirAcross the moon at Grantchester!To smell the thrilling-sweet and rottenUnforgettable, unforgottenRiver-smell, and hear the breeze Sobbing in the little trees.Say, do the elm-clumps greatly standStill guardians of that holy...

He had done nothing on Christmas day, just wandered around outside in the frozen woods. Hard ground, chill winds and bare branches that looked like they’d been dipped in sugar. None of it seemed real,...

Depression is melancholy minus its charms.

At that moment, beauty itself struck me as a kind of painful melancholy.

The sun hides not the ocean, which is the dark side of this earth, and which is two thirds of this earth. So, therefore, that mortal man who hath more of joy than sorrow in...

When I was young and filled with folly, I fell in love with melancholy

(Episode 9. Hijikata finds Gintoki on a rooftop and challenges him to a duel to avenge Kondo’s defeat earlier. Gintoki doesn’t want to fight him, so breaks Hijikata’s sword easily, and leaves. It’s then revealed...