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Lamentation Quotes

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Lamentation Quotes

“Not to waste the spring I threw down everything, And ran into the open world To sing what I could sing... To dance what I could dance! And join with everyone! I wandered with a reckless heart beneath the newborn sun. First stepping through the blushing dawn, I crossed beneath a garden bower, counting every hermit thrush, counting every hour. When morning's light was ripe at last, I stumbled on with reckless feet; and found two nymphs engaged in play, approaching them stirred no retreat. With naked skin, their weaving hands, in form akin to Calliope's maids, shook winter currents from their hair to weave within them vernal braids. I grabbed the first, who seemed the stronger by her soft and dewy leg, and swore blind eyes, Lest I find I, before Diana, a hunted stag. But the nymphs they laughed, and shook their heads. and begged I drop beseeching hands. For one was no goddess, the other no huntress, merely two girls at play in the early day. "Please come to us, with unblinded eyes, and raise your ready lips. We will wash your mouth with watery sighs, weave you springtime with our fingertips." So the nymphs they spoke, we kissed and laid, by noontime's hour, our love was made, Like braided chains of crocus stems, We lay entwined, I laid with them, Our breath, one glassy, tideless sea, Our bodies draping wearily. We slept, I slept so lucidly, with hopes to stay this memory. I woke in dusty afternoon, Alone, the nymphs had left too soon, I searched where perched upon my knees Heard only larks' songs in the trees. "Be you, the larks, my far-flung maids? With lilac feet and branchlike braids... Who sing sweet odes to my elation, in your larking exaltation!" With these, my clumsy, carefree words, The birds they stirred and flew away, "Be I, poor Actaeon," I cried, "Be dead… Before they, like Hippodamia, be gone astray!" Yet these words, too late, remained unheard, By lark, that parting, morning bird. I looked upon its parting flight, and smelled the coming of the night; desirous, I gazed upon its jaunt, as Leander gazes Hellespont. Now the hour was ripe and dark, sensuous memories of sunlight past, I stood alone in garden bowers and asked the value of my hours. Time was spent or time was tossed, Life was loved and life was lost. I kissed the flesh of tender girls, I heard the songs of vernal birds. I gazed upon the blushing light, aware of day before the night. So let me ask and hear a thought: Did I live the spring I’d sought? It's true in joy, I walked along, took part in dance, and sang the song. and never tried to bind an hour to my borrowed garden bower; nor did I once entreat a day to slumber at my feet. Yet days aren't lulled by lyric song, like morning birds they pass along, o'er crests of trees, to none belong; o'er crests of trees of drying dew, their larking flight, my hands, eschew Thus I'll say it once and true… From all that I saw, and everywhere I wandered, I learned that time cannot be spent, It only can be squandered.”

SpringSeasonsGreek MythologyCarpe DiemSpringtimeLove MakingArtemisRoman PayneNymphsLamentationOvidLyrical WritingComing Of SpringLong PoemLyric PoemLyrical NovelPoem From NovelVernalActeon
Book:Rooftop Soliloquy
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“The hour of spring was dark at last, sensuous memories of sunlight past, I stood alone in garden bowers and asked the value of my hours. Time was spent or time was tossed, Life was loved and life was lost. I kissed the flesh of tender girls, I heard the songs of vernal birds. I gazed upon the blushing light, aware of day before the night. So let me ask and hear a thought: Did I live the spring I’d sought? It's true in joy, I walked along, took part in dance, and sang the song. and never tried to bind an hour to my borrowed garden bower; nor did I once entreat a day to slumber at my feet. Yet days aren't lulled by lyric song, like morning birds they pass along, o'er crests of trees, to none belong; o'er crests of trees of drying dew, their larking flight, my hands, eschew Thus I’ll say it once and true... From all that I saw, and everywhere I wandered, I learned that time cannot be spent, It only can be squandered.”

TimeSpringSeasonsInnocenceCarpe DiemSpringtimeLove MakingEndingsRoman PayneNymphsLamentationEnd Of LoveLyrical WritingComing Of SpringLong PoemLyric PoemLyrical NovelPoem From NovelVernalEnd Of InnocenceEnd Of Spring
Book:Rooftop Soliloquy
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“While staring at him, Laurie sighed deeply and said, "See Ethan, Love isn't always about flowers and chocolates, maybe it's about sacrifices or giving everything you're willing to offer to see your lover happy." As she continued, she closed her eyes "Others couldn't since they weren't their lovers, but some people were able to. Since you ultimately mean nothing to those who mean the fucking world to you, it hurts to witness other people suffer while being unable to provide comfort." Ethan immediately stood up and kneeled in front of Laurie as she cried angrily "I know! Laurie, I apologize. Because of how much you mean to me, that is why I came here today.”

LoveBroken HeartHurt FeelingsPainful MemoriesLamentationBrokenheartedSorrows Sad Darkness
Author:Rifa Coolheart
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“Every man may be observed to have a certain strain of lamentation, some peculiar theme of complaint on which he dwells in his moments of dejection.”

MenMayMomentsCertainEvery ManThemePeculiarComplaintsStrainLamentation
Book:The Works of Alexander Pope, Esq. in Verse and Prose: Containing the Principal Notes of Drs. Warburton and Warton: Illustrations, and Critical and Explanatory Remarks, by Johnson, Wakefield, A. Chalmers ... and Others; to which are Added, Now First Published, Some Original Letters, with Additional Observations, and Memoirs of the Life of the Author
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“The Bible is not primarily a written or printed text to be scrutinized in private, in a scholar's study or a contemplative cell. It is a body of oral messages, announcements, prophecies, promulgations, recitals, histories, songs of praise, lamentations, etc., which are meant either to be uttered or at least read aloud, or chanted, or sung, or recited in a community convoked for the purpose of a living celebration.”

BodyPurposeSongCommunityStudyWrittenMessagesPraiseCellsContemplationEtcCelebrationScholarProphecyPrintedContemplativeAnnouncementsLamentationRecitals
Author:Thomas Merton
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“Truly we are passing through disastrous times, when we may well make our own the lamentation of the Prophet: "There is no truth, and there is no mercy, and there is no knowledge of God in the land" (Hosea 4:1). Yet in the midst of this tide of evil, the Virgin Most Merciful rises before our eyes like a rainbow, as the arbiter of peace between God and man.”

MenWellsMayEyeEvilLandMercyPassingPassingsProphetMidstTidesRainbowVirginsMercifulPassing ThroughKnowledge Of GodArbiterLamentation
Author:Pope Pius X
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“Desolate--Life is so dreary and desolate-- Women and men in the crowd meet and mingle, Yet with itself every soul standeth single, Deep out of sympathy moaning its moan-- Holding and having its brief exultation-- Making its lonesome and low lamentation-- Fighting its terrible conflicts alone.”

MenSoulLife IsFightingTerribleConflictLowsMen And WomenCrowdsDrearyDesolationDesolateLonesomeMoaningLamentation
Book:The Poetical Works of Alice and Phoebe Cary
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“We hear a great deal of lamentation these days about writers having all taken themselves to the colleges and universities where they live decorously instead of going out and getting firsthand information about life. The fact is that anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information about life to last him the rest of his days. If you can't make something out of a little experience, you probably won't be able to make it out of a lot. The writer's business is to contemplate experience, not to be merged in it.”

IfsLittlesEnoughFactsAbleLastsDealsTakenChildhoodInformationCollegeUniversityThese DaysContemplatingGoing OutSurvivedColleges And UniversitiesLamentation
Book:Mystery and Manners: Occasional Prose
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“Why has no one written a November rhapsody with plenty of lilt and swing? The poets who are moved at all by this month seem only stirred to lamentation, giving us year end and 'melancholy days' remarks, thereby showing that theory is stronger than observation among the rhyming brotherhood, or else that they have chronic indigestion and no gardens to stimulate them.”

GivingYearsEndsSeemsWrittenPoetTheoryMonthsGardenStrongerMovedObservationPlentyMelancholyBrotherhoodSwingsRemarksNovemberRhymingIndigestionLamentationYear End
Book:The garden of a commuter's wife
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“Time is never more misspent than while we declaim against the want of it; all our actions are then tinctured with peevishness. The yoke of life is certainly the least oppressive when we carry it with good-humor; and in the shades of rural retirement, when we have once acquired a resolution to pass our hours with economy, sorrowful lamentations on the subject of time misspent and business neglected never torture the mind.”

WantMindActionLife IsTimeHoursEconomySubjectsTortureResolutionRetirementShadeOur ActionsNeglectedYokeSorrowfulGood HumorLamentation
Author:Johann Georg Ritter von Zimmermann
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“Clifford paints true-to-life characters with the same gritty touch as the best of Dennis Lehane. Straightforward and edgy, Lamentation gnaws with nail-biting tension on every page. A must-read for contemporary hardboiled mystery fans who appreciate the type of terse dialogue and real life conflicts and settings Elmore Leonard so richly brought to life.”

RealCharacterMysteryFansTypeConflictPagesAppreciatePaintReal LifeSettingContemporaryDialogueSettingsTensionNailsStraightforwardEdgyTrue LifeBitingLamentation
Author:Robert Dugoni
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“Joy, sorrow, tears, lamentation, laughter -- to all these music gives voice, but in such a way that we are transported from the world of unrest to a world of peace, and see reality in a new way, as if we were sitting by a mountain lake and contemplating hills and woods and clouds in the tranquil and fathomless water.”

IfsWorldWayGivingRealityJoyVoiceWaterMusicTearsSorrowMountainLaughterSittingCloudsWoodsHillsLakesContemplatingNew WaysTranquilUnrestLamentationMountain Lakes
Author:Albert Schweitzer
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“Of four infernal rivers that disgorge/ Into the burning Lake their baleful streams;/Abhorred Styx the flood of deadly hate,/Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep;/Cocytus, nam'd of lamentation loud/ Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegethon/ Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage./ Far off from these a slow and silent stream,/ Lethe the River of Oblivion rolls/ Her wat'ry Labyrinth whereof who drinks,/ Forthwith his former state and being forgets,/ Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain.”

StatesPainJoyHateBlackForgetPleasureGriefFireFourHeardSorrowDrinkRiversSilentWaveRageFormerBurningLoudStreamsLakesFierceFloodOblivionLabyrinthPain And PleasureLamentationStyxLetheJoy And Grief
Author:John Milton
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“Lamentations comfort only by lacerating the heart still more. Such grief does not desire consolation. It feeds on the sense of its hopelessness. Lamentations spring only from the constant craving to re-open the wound.”

HeartDoeStillsDesireGriefComfortSpringConstantWoundsHopelessnessConsolationCravingBrothers KaramazovLamentation
Book:The Brothers Karamazov (English Russian Edition illustrated): Братья Карамазовы (англо-русская редакция иллюстрированная)
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“Some communities don't permit open, honest inquiry about the things that matter most. Lots of people have voiced a concern, expressed a doubt, or raised a question, only to be told by their family, church, friends, or tribe: "We don't discuss those things here." I believe the discussion itself is divine. Abraham does his best to bargain with God, most of the book of Job consists of arguments by Job and his friends about the deepest questions of human suffering, God is practically on trial in the book of Lamentations, and Jesus responds to almost every question he's asked with...a question.”

PeopleBelieveHumansDoeBookMatterJobsSufferingJesusI BelieveCommunityChurchDoubtHonestDivineConcernArgumentRaisedTrialsDiscussionPermitTribesInquiryBargainsAbrahamThings That MatterHuman SufferingLamentation
Book:Love Wins: At the Heart of Life’s Big Questions
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“The man who has known pure joy, if only for a moment ... is the only man for whom affliction is something devastating. At the same time he is the only man who has not deserved the punishment. But, after all, for him it is no punishment; it is God holding his hand and pressing rather hard. For, if he remains constant, what he will discover buried deep under the sound of his own lamentations is the pearl of the silence of God.”

IfsMenHardMomentsHandsJoySoundSilenceKnownPureRemainsConstantPunishmentBuriedAfflictionPearlsLamentationPure Joy
Book:The Simone Weil Reader
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“Every class of society has its cant of lamentation, which is understood or regarded by none but themselves; and every part of life has its uneasiness, which those who do not feel them will not commiserate. An event which spreads distraction over half the commercial world, assembles the trading companies in councils and committees, and shakes the nerves of a thousand stockjobbers, is read by the landlord and the farmer with frigid indifference.”

WorldFeelsHumanityHalfCompanyClassEventsThousandUnderstoodSpreadIndifferenceShakesNervesFarmersDistractionCommitteesTradingCouncilCantParts Of LifeLandlordUneasinessFrigidLamentationClasses Of Society
Book:The Works of Samuel Johnson, LL.: D., with an Essay on His Life and Genius
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“Not by lamentations and mournful chants ought we to celebrate the funeral of a good man, but by hymns; for, ion ceasing to be numbered with mortals, he enters upon the heritage of a diviner life. Since he is gone where he feels no pain, let us not indulge in too much grief. The soul is incapable of death. And he, like a bird not long enough in his cage to become attached to it, is free to fly away to a purer air. . . . Since we cherish a trust like this, let our outward actions be in accord with it, and let us keep our hearts pure and our minds calm.”

MenLifeFeelsMindHeartLongSoulEnoughActionPainGriefGoneToo MuchAirOughtPureBirdCalmCelebrateMortalsGood ManCherishHeritageFuneralIncapableCagesIndulgeAccordHymnsIndulge InFly AwayNo PainLamentationIons
Author:Plutarch
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“There sighs, lamentations and loud wailings resounded through the starless air, so that at first it made me weep; strange tongues, horrible language, words of pain, tones of anger, voices loud and hoarse, and with these the sound of hands, made a tumult which is whirling through that air forever dark, and sand eddies in a whirlwind.”

FirstsMadeHandsPainLanguageSoundVoiceDarkHellForeverAirStrangeTongueHorribleLoudToneSandSighWhirlwindTumultWailingLamentationLanguage Words
Author:Dante Alighieri
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“I confess, without shame, that I am sick and tired of fighting — its glory is all moonshine; even success the most brilliant is over dead and mangled bodies, with the anguish and lamentations of distant families, appealing to me for sons, husbands, and fathers ... it is only those who have never heard a shot, never heard the shriek and groans of the wounded and lacerated ... that cry aloud for more blood, more vengeance, more desolation.”

BodyFightingFatherHeardBloodCrySonHusbandGloryShotsSickShameTiredBrilliantWoundedAnguishVengeanceDesolationLamentationMoonshineHusband And FatherTired Of Fighting
Author:William Tecumseh Sherman
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“Humanity looks upon Jesus the Nazarene as a poor-born Who suffered misery and humiliation with all of the weak. And He is pitied, for Humanity believes He was crucified painfully. . . . And all that Humanity offers to Him is crying and wailing and lamentation. For centuries Humanity has been worshiping weakness in the person of the Savior. The Nazarene was not weak! He was strong and is strong! But the people refuse to heed the true meaning of strength.”

PeopleBelieveLooksPersonsHas BeensHumanityJesusBeliefStrongBornPoorCenturyCryOffersWeaknessWeakMiseryRefuseLook UpSaviorHumiliationHeedTrue MeaningWailingLamentationNazarene
Author:Khalil Gibran
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