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Crying Quotes

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Crying Quotes

“Crying is like a thundershower for the soul. The air feels so wonderful after the rain. Don’t think too much. Breathe. Don’t be harsh or demanding on yourself. Just experience your feelings and know that your tears are announcing change in your life. Change is coming; like a summer rain — to wash away your pain. Have faith that things are getting better.”

“And there is also that feeling of tightness in the chest, tears stuck in your throat unwilling to come out. It’s always there. It’s the default. All the stuff around you—that’s what keeps changing. Sometimes you’re about to miss a deadline, sometimes you drink your coffee with regular milk because they’re out of oat milk, sometimes your kid comes up to you out of nowhere and gives you a hug. And every single thing makes you want to cry, but nothing actually ends up turning into tears. Like an end to the war in Gaza: it’s always close, and it always doesn’t happen.”

“Death gets a bad rap. People think that euthanasia is putting their pets “down” when it really is lifting us up. In the first moment, when we come back to earth, we remember the comfort of the Heaven we came from and this is why we cry when we are born. When we are born in Heaven we come in laughing not crying! In birth we have the passage and then the pain. In death we have the pain and then the passage.”

“Life is defined by time, appreciate the beauty of time; A time to plant, a time to harvest. A time to cry, a time to laugh. A time to be sad, a time to be happy. A time to be born, a time to die.”

“Sooo, I'm tired of people thinking I'm a freak. I know you can't relate to that but -" "Get over it already, will ya?" Candace stood. "You're not Smellody anymore. You're pretty. You can get hot guys now. Tanned ones with good vision. Not geeky hose jousters." She shut the window. "Don't you ever want to use your lips as something other than veneer protectors?" Melody felt a familiar pinch behind her eyes. Her throat dried. Her eyes burned. And then they came. Like salty little paratroopers, tears descended en masse. She hated Candace thought she had never made out with a boy. But how could she convince a seventeen-year-old with more dates than a fruitcake that Randy the Starbucks cashier (aka Scarbucks, because of his acne scars) was a great kisser? She couldn't.”

“"Were you crying?" Tori peered at my face. "You were." "I-it's nothing. I—" "Simon pulled something, didn't he? Got you out on that walk, and the next thing you know, it's not your hand he's holding." Her eyes blaze. "Guys. They can be such—" "It wasn't like that." "If he pulled that crap, you can tell me. I've had a few surprise first dates myself. Wish I'd had my spells then. Especially the binding one."”

“Sidenote on crying: there’s a procedure for that, too. More specifically, the procedure involves what to do about tissues. I teach my students crying is an effective way to express and release emotion. When patients and family members are vulnerable enough to cry in front of us, they give us a beautiful gift. Handing someone a box of tissues as soon as the tears start falling might feel helpful, but it can also send the message, “You’re making me uncomfortable. Please stop crying.” If I immediately shove a tissue box in someone’s face, the tears often stop. I’ve interrupted the flow of emotion. Instead, I just locate the tissue box in the room with my eyes. I don’t push it away like some sadist if the patient reaches for it; but until they do, or until they let out a sigh and start looking around the room for the box, I just let them talk and cry. Let the tears soak their hands, their sleeves, their blankets, whatever is available—let it all pour out! When they’re ready, their body language will let me know. Then I’ll hand them the tissues.”

“Crying is NOT a weakness. Cry as much as you have to. Don’t be afraid or ashamed to let your tears flow. Crying is a natural part of life. We all have feelings, and sometimes crying is all that we can do. Crying can help relieve the pain, hurt, disappointments, and all of the other things that life can throw our way. Know that it’s okay, and know that you’re going to be okay as well. Wishing You: Peace of mind, Comfort, Happiness, Joy within and LOVE.”

“You’re angry at me,” she says. I stop crying at once. My whole body goes cold and still. She squats down beside me, and even though I’m careful not to look up, not to look at her at all, I can feel her, can smell the sweat from her skin and hear the ragged pattern of her breathing. “You’re angry at me,” she repeats, and her voice hitches a little. “You think I don’t care.” Her voice is the same. For years I used to imagine that voice lilting over those forbidden words: I love you. Remember. They cannot take it. Her last words to me before she went away. She shuffles forward and squats next to me. She hesitates, then reaches out and places her palm against my cheek, and turns my head toward hers so I’m forced to look at her. I can feel the calluses on her fingers. In her eyes, I see myself reflected in miniature, and I tunnel back to a time before she left, before I believed she was gone forever, when her eyes welcomed me into every day and shepherded me, every night, into sleep. “You turned out even more beautiful than I’d imagined,” she whispers. She, too, is crying. The hard casement inside me breaks. “Why?” is the only word that comes. Without intending to or even thinking about it, I allow her to draw me against her chest, let her wrap her arms around me. I cry into the space between her collarbones, inhaling the still-familiar smell of her skin. There are so many things I need to ask her: What happened to you in the Crypts? How could you let them take you away? Where did you go? But all I can say is: “Why didn’t you come for me? After all those years—all that time—why didn’t you come?” Then I can’t speak at all; my sobs become shudders. “Shhh.” She presses her lips to my forehead, strokes my hair, just like she used to when I was a child. I am a baby once again in her arms—helpless and needy. “I’m here now.” She rubs my back while I cry. Slowly, I feel the darkness drain out of me, as though pulled away by the motion of her hand. Finally I can breathe again. My eyes are burning, and my throat feels raw and sore. I draw away from her, wiping my eyes with the heel of my hand, not even caring that my nose is running. I’m suddenly exhausted—too tired to be hurt, too tired to be angry. I want to sleep, and sleep. “I never stopped thinking about you,” my mother says. “I thought of you every day—you and Rachel.”

“When someone cries so hard that it hurts their throat, it is out of frustration or knowing that no matter what you can do or attempt to do can change the situation. When you feel like you need to cry, when you want to just get it out, relieve some of the pressure from the inside - that is true pain. Because no matter how hard you try or how bad you want to, you can't. That pain just stays in place. Then, if you are lucky, one small tear may escape from those eyes that water constantly. That one tear, that tiny, salty, droplet of moisture is a means of escape. Although it's just a small tear, it is the heaviest thing in the world. And it doesn't do a damn thing to fix anything.”

“Most parents try really hard to give their kids the best possible life. They give them the best food and clothes they can afford, take their own kind of take on training kids to be honest and polite. But what they don't realize is no matter how much they try, their kids will get out there. Out to this complicated little world. If they are lucky they will survive, through backstabbers, broken hearts, failures and all the kinds of invisible insane pressures out there. But most kids get lost in them. They will get caught up in all kinds of bubbles. Trouble bubbles. Bubbles that continuously tell them that they are not good enough. Bubbles that get them carried away with what they think is love, give them broken hearts. Bubbles that will blur the rest of the world to them, make them feel like that is it, that they've reached the end. Sometimes, even the really smart kids, make stupid decisions. They lose control. Parents need to realize that the world is getting complicated every second of every day. With new problems, new diseases, new habits. They have to realize the vast probability of their kids being victims of this age, this complicated era. Your kids could be exposed to problems that no kind of therapy can help. Your kids could be brainwashed by themselves to believe in insane theories that drive them crazy. Most kids will go through this stage. The lucky ones will understand. They will grow out of them. The unlucky ones will live in these problems. Grow in them and never move forward. They will cut themselves, overdose on drugs, take up excessive drinking and smoking, for the slightest problems in their lives. You can't blame these kids for not being thankful or satisfied with what they have. Their mentality eludes them from the reality.”

“By the way, don't 'weep inwardly' and get a sore throat. If you must weep, weep: a good honest howl! I suspect we - and especially, my sex - don't cry enough now-a-days. Aeneas and Hector and Beowulf, Roland and Lancelot blubbered like schoolgirls, so why shouldn't we?”

“Many people think less of a man if he cries because it supposedly shows a sign of weakness, but I beg to differ. A man that’s in touch with his feelings is absolutely beautiful! I admire, respect, and appreciate their braveness to be vulnerable. Crying is NOT a weakness. We cannot expect our men to be strong all of the time. That’s SO unfair! They have feelings, too. Don’t ever make a man feel less than just because he cries. Comfort, love, and support him. Show him that you genuinely care.”