I want to kill her and I have been trying since long. But in a way that she could remember my innocence, and would think of my care towards her and i am so much...

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano!

We [of Thelema] are whole-hearted extroverts; the penalty of restricting oneself is anything from neurosis to down right lunacy; in particular, melancholia.

There’s a special quality to the loneliness of dusk, a melancholy more brooding even than the night’s.

Melancholy suicide. —This is connected with a general state of extreme depression and exaggerated sadness, causing the patient no longer to realize sanely the bonds which connect him with people and things about him. Pleasures...

Ay, in the very temple of Delight Veil’d Melancholy has her sovran shrine, Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy’s grape against his palate fine; His soul shall taste the...

Melancholy held me hostage, and the bees built a hive of sadness in my soul.

I want to hold onto this funny thing. God, it’s gotten big on me. I don’t know what it is. I’m so damned unhappy, I’m so mad, and I don’t know why. I feel like...

I loved him the way some people are to be loved – from a distance.

For certain, neither of them sees a happy Present, as the gate opens and closes, and one goes in, and the other goes away.

Quand vous regardez le plafond de cette chambre, qu’est-ce que vous y voyez?-L’intérieur de ma tête.-C’est comment?-Opaque.

Of what are you thinking now?” she asked.”I am thinking of myself.””That’s just what I am doing.””Are you also thinking of yourself?””No, of yourself—of you, Mogens.

Incluso en estos tiemposen los que soy feliz de otra manera,todos los días tienen ese instanteen que me jugaría la primaverapor tenerte delante.

Nothing you did made senseand nothing you’ll ever do.

What if everything in the world were a misunderstanding, what if laughter were really tears?

Let’s call my mood melancholy; let’s call it remembrance. Or maybe let’s call it longing. Yes, let’s call it longing instead.

Oh, Mercédès, I have spoken your name with sighs of melancholy, with groans of pain and with the croak of despair. I have spoken it frozen with cold, huddled on the straw of my dungeon....

There was something melancholic about that symbol of their nation’s promise of freedom, a bell with a chipped mouth and cleft body.

There was one of his lonelinesses coming, one of those times when he walked the streets or sat, aimless and depressed, biting a pencil at his desk. It was a self-absorption with no comfort, a...

It might be high summer all about but inside me everything is fall. The lonesomeness of a sad, slow closing of days, knowing frost is nigh and wind needling through the cabin chinks is just...

Sé que mañana despertaré, Gryal, y lo haré tan vacía y triste como un río sin lluvia. Dime, amado, ,quién será mi lluvia? ,Quién mojará mi cuerpo cuando me faltes? Vuelve, amor, vuelve sano y...

I feel as if I had been born dead underAmerican bombardment.

The exhilaration was hard to explain. It was a lonely feeling — a somehow melancholy feeling. He was outside; he passed on the wings of the wind, and none of the people beyond the brightly...

To die, – To sleep, – To sleep!Perchance to dream: – ay, there’s the rub;For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,Must give us pause: there’s...

Melancholia is, I believe, a musical problem: a dissonance, a change in rhythm. While on the outside everything happens with the vertiginous rhythm of a cataract, on the inside is the exhausted adagio of drops...

His jaw was slack and his mouth open, and he wondered if perhaps he would drown eventually; drowned by the falling rain.

Over all crowds there seems to float a vague distress, an atmosphere of pervasive melancholy, as if any large gathering of people creates an aura of terror and pity.

Credinţa zugrăveşte icoanele-n biserici -Şi-n sufletu-mi pusese poveştile-i feerici,Dar de-ale vieţii valuri, de al furtunii pasAbia conture triste şi umbre-au mai rămas.În van mai caut lumea-mi în obositul creier,Căci răguşit, tomnatec, vrăjeşte trist un greier;Pe...

He was a Frenchman, a melancholy-looking man. His aspect was that of one who has been looking for the leak in a gas pipe with a lighted candle.

Gwynn, she was always talking about wanting to be drunk and honestly I did want to encourage that, I wanted to go to a bar with her and let all the stuff sobriety pushed down...

i have laughedmore than daffodilsand cried more than June.

The staying awake was a great self-sacrificaing gesture of friendship, and wonderfully in keeping with our current mood of intense friendship and religious fervour. We were all in a state of shock. We engaged in...

Il n’arrivait às à trouver exactement son aplomb. Comme lorsqu’on déplace un meuble très lourd et qu’on n’arrive plus ensuite à faire coïncider sa base avec ses marques laissées au sol. Ou comme lorsqu’on n’arrive...

Lie still, lie still, my breaking heart; My silent heart, lie still and break: Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed For a dream’s sake.

Only pain can define the meaning of tears.

Men do not die on mornings like this:whatever happens then happens in their name,like the lives of obscure saints, who exist only in folk memory.

I’d like to die listening to a piece of music. I imagine this as so easy, so natural, but naturally it’s quite impossible. Notes stab too softly. The wounds they leave behind may smart, but...

Sizi bekliyorum. Sizi göreceğim; içimde bir şey koşacak. Siz görmeden geçeceksiniz. Ben kederle sevinci duyup dalacağım istediğim aleme. Dünyayı yeniden kederlerle kuracağım.

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...