Tears Have No Weight Quotes & Sayings

People talk of sorrow as if it is soft, a thing of water and tears. But true sorrow is not soft. True sorrow is a thing of fire, and rock. It burns your heart, crushes your soul under the weight of mountains. It destroys, and even if you keep breathing, keep going, you die. — Laurell K. Hamilton

Here: an exercise in choice. Your choice. One of these tales is true.
She lived through the war. In 1959 she came to America. She now lives in a condo in Miami, a tiny French woman with white hair, with a daughter and a grand-daughter. She keeps herself to herself and smiles rarely, as if the weight of memory keeps her from finding joy.
Or that's a lie. Actually the Gestapo picked her up during a border crossing in 1943, and they left her in a meadow. First she dug her own grave, then a single bullet to the back of the skull.
Her last thought, before that bullet, was that she was four months' pregnant, and that if we do not fight to create a future there will be no future for any of us.
There is an old woman in Miami who wakes, confused, from a dream of the wind blowing the wildflowers in a meadow.
There are bones untouched beneath the warm French earth which dream of a daughter's wedding. Good wine is drunk. The only tears shed are happy ones. — Neil Gaiman

Ohmigosh. No food at all." Tiara sank down on the sand as if the full weight of their predicament had finally hit her. She blinked back tears. And then that megawatt smile that belonged on cereal boxes across the nation reappeared. "I am going to be so superskinny by pageant time! — Libba Bray

She could smell her mother's skin, her lotion, her perfume
her essence. She missed her so much. She clawed at her pillow, wanting to cry, but tears never came, just a swirling riptide of feeling
anger, abandonment, the fear of being alone, and the weight of the emotional millstone still tied around her neck, submerging her further into the murky depths of stinging, biting solitude. She wished she could wail all night. Instead she curled up in the darkness of her bedroom, listening to her racing heartbeat, which eventually slowed, like the ticking of a clock unwound. — Jamie Ford

Of the five senses, smell is the one with the best memory. — Rebecca McClanahan

His gaze ran over her body again, resting on the deepest of the fracture lines in her shields. 'Come here.'
Purple feathers fanned around Riana's sides. Sudden tears moistened her eyes at the unexpectedness of what Sier was offering. She sank against him, and his arms folded around her back. Her weight supported, Riana let herself float on the night and tucked her face into his neck. Sier's power closed around her in a violet wave, running into her halo, slipping though her opened shields. — Joanna Fay

And Summer, dear Summer, hath years of June,
With large white clouds, and cool showers at noon;
And a beauty that grows to a weight like grief,
Till a burst of tears is the heart's relief. — George MacDonald

If now and then we encounter pages that explode, pages that wound and sear, that wring groans and tears and curses, know that they come from a man with his back up, a man whose only defenses left are his words and his words are always stronger than the lying, crushing weight of the world, stronger than all the racks and wheels which the cowardly invent to crush out the miracle of personality. If any man ever dared to translate all that is in his heart, to put down what is really his experience, what is truly his truth, I think then the world would go to smash, that it would be blown to smithereens and no god, no accident, no will could ever again assemble the pieces, the atoms, the indestructible elements that have gone to make up the world. — Henry Miller

At moments, the weight of it all became palpable. It was in the air, the stress and misery. Normally, you breathed it in, without noticing it. But some days, like a humid muggy day, it had a suffocating weight of its own. Some days, this is how it felt when I was in the hospital: trapped in an endless jungle summer, wet with sweat, the rain of tears of the families of the dying pouring down. — Paul Kalanithi

Maybe the truth is, there's a little bit of loser in all of us. Being happy isn't having everything in your life be perfect. Maybe it's about stringing together all the little things. — Ann Brashares

I never knew You lived so close to the floor,
but every time I am bowed down,
crushed by this weight of grief,
I feel Your hand on my head,
Your breath on my cheek,
Your tears on my neck.
You never tell me to pull myself together,
to stem the flow of many years.
You simply stay by my side
for as long as it takes,
so close to the floor. — Sheila Walsh

How do you feel Yossarian?"
"Fine. No, I'm very frightened."
"That's good," said Major Danby. "It proves you're still alive. It won't be fun."
Yossarian started out. "Yes it will. — Joseph Heller

Alina," the Darkling repeated, his fingers seeking mine. I was surprised to find fresh tears filling my eyes.
He reached up and brushed his knuckles over the wetness on my cheek. The smallest smile touched his bloodstained lips. "Someone to mourn me." He dropped his hand, as if the weight were too much. "No grave," he gasped, his hand tightening on mine, "for them to desecrate. — Leigh Bardugo

Akinli, this strange boy whose life at the moment seemed to be hanging on this, pushed himself from the bed.
Julie gasped, watching as his arms trembled under his weight, even as thin as he was. He crushed his eyes together in concentration, willing himself up.
I heard Ben whisper to himself, "Come on, come on, come on."
When Akinli, breathing as if he truly had just run a marathon, was fairly close to upright, he held out an arm for me.
I fell into it fearlessly.
We leaned into each other, neither of us strong enough to stay up on our own.
"I thought I'd never see you sit up again," Julie cried.
We both turned to her, smiling at the happy tears on her face. — Kiera Cass

Fighting in the name of freedom has too high a price, Merlin sighed as he leaned into his mother's arms. — Dee Marie

Won't say anything, won't burst into tears and buckle under the weight of this last, awful straw. — Laura Wiess

We're all going to die eventually so why not have some fun. — Augusten Burroughs

I'll wipe that smile off your face," he vowed.
"And how do you plan to do that?"
"Put the kid to bed and I'll show you. — Nick Wilgus

Thank you," he said. Luce felt her lips quiver and her eyes burn.
Before she knew what she was doing, she fell into Cam's
arms, felt his hands wrap around her back.
When his chin rested on the top of her head, she began to weep. He let her cry. Held her close. He whispered,
"You're so brave." Then Cam's arms shifted and his chest pulled lightly away. For a second, she felt cold and exposed, but then another chest, another pair of arms replaced Cam's. And she knew without opening her eyes
that it was Daniel. No other body in the universe fit hers so well.
"Mind if I cut in?" he asked softly.
"Daniel - " She clenched her fists and squeezed her arms around him, wanting to squeeze away the pain.
"Shhh." He held her like that for what might have been hours, rocking her slightly, cradling her in his wings until her tears had tapered off and the
weight in her heart had eased enough that she could breathe without sniffling. — Lauren Kate

He'd never seen a rain quite like this so gentle that it seemed barely to fall yet slowly laid its shine on the bay leaves and hydrangea flowers ... — Rose Tremain

My weakness did not pass; it grew worse the longer I was awake. I thought about calling for Twig or Thistle, to have them bring me something to eat or drink, but I wanted to be alone. I wanted to cry. I had spent tears of rage, frustration, and sorrow since becoming the Goblin King's bride, but I hadn't allowed myself the indulgence of a good sob. The undignified, broken-hearted, mournful wail of ugly tears. The weight of that unreleased cry pressed down upon my lungs and my heart. I — S. Jae-Jones

His other hand finds my cheek, and he wipes away my tears with his thumb. The chocolate scent overwhelms me as he bends over and whispers in my ear, "No, Cassie. No, no, no."
I throw my arm around his neck and press his dry cheek against my wet one. I'm shaking like an epileptic, and for the first time I can feel the weight of the quilts on the top of my toes because the blinding dark sharpens your other senses.
I'm a bubbling stew of random thoughts and feelings. I'm worried my hair might smell. I want some chocolate. This guy holding me - well, it's more like I was holding him - has seen me in all my naked glory. What did he think about my body? What did I think about my body? Does God really care about promises? Do I really care about God? Are miracles something like the Red Sea parting or more like Evan Walker finding me locked in a block of ice in a wilderness of white?
"Cassie, it's going to be okay," he whispers into my ear, chocolate breath. — Rick Yancey

It is the phenomenon somethings called "alienation from self." In its advanced stages, we no longer answer the telephone, because someone might want something; that we could say no without drowning in self-reproach is an idea alien to this game. Every encounter demands too much, tears the nerves, drains the will, and the specter of something as small as an unanswered letter arouses such disproportionate guilt that answering it becomes out of the question. To assign unanswered letters their proper weight, to free us from the expectations of others, to give us back to ourselves - there lies the great, the singular power of self-respect. Without it, one eventually discovers the final turn of the screw: one runs away to find oneself, and finds no one at home. — Joan Didion

A church of dialogue in the contemporary world ... a church, taking on the mission of Jesus, which is in the world not to judge humanity, but to love it and to save it. — Claudio Hummes

Every moment is the right moment — Dr Lloyd Magangeni

Tears at times have the weight of speech. — Ovid

Great. Okay. That, uh ... was easier than I thought."
Jack cocked his head. Wait a second ... He couldn't decide if he was pissed or really impressed. He hooked a finger into the waistband of the workout pants she'd changed into and pulled her closer. "Did you fake me out with those tears, Cameron?"
She peered up at him, defiantly, seemingly outraged by the suggestion. "Are you kidding? What, after the day I've had, I'm not entitled to a few tears? Sheesh."
Jack waited.
"This wedding is very important to me
I can't believe you're even doubting me. Honestly, Jack, the tears were real."
He waited some more. She would talk eventually. They always did.
Cameron shifted under the weight of his stare. "Okay, fine. Some of the tears were real." She looked him over, annoyed. "You are really good at that."
He grinned. "I know. — Julie James

My unhappiness was something deep inside me, and when i closed my eyes i could even see it. it sat somehwere - maybe in my belly, maybe in my heart; i could not exactly tell - and it took the shape of a small black ball, all wrapped up in cobwebs. i would look at it and look at it until i had burned the cobwebs away, and then i would see that the ball was no bigger than a thimble, even though it weighed worlds. at that moment, just when i saw its size and felt its weight, i was beyond feeling sorry for myself, which is to say i was beyond tears. i could only just sit and look at myself, feeling like the oldest person who had ever lived and who had not learned a single thing. — Jamaica Kincaid

For almost every addict who s mired in this terrible disease, other -- a mother or father, a child or spouse, an aunt or uncles or grandparents, a brother or sister -- are suffering too. Families are the hidden victims of addiction, enduring enormous levels of stress and pain. They suffer sleepless nights, deep anxiety, and physical exhaustion brought on by worry and desperation. They lie awake for hours on end as fear for their loved one's safety crowds out any possibility of sleep. They liveeach day with a weight inside that drags them down. Unable to laugh or smile, they are sometimes filled with bottled-up anger or a constant sadness that keeps them on the verge of tears. — Beverly Conyers

If only we could eat our sunsets, I say, we would all be full. — J.M. Coetzee

He shifted his weight, throwing his good leg off the bed as if he were going to try to stand.
"What are you doing?" I demanded through the tears. "Lie down, you idiot, you'll hurt yourself!" I jumped to my feet and pushed his good shoulder down with two hands. He surrendered, leaning back with a gasp of pain, but he grabbed me around my waist and pulled me down on the bed, against his good side. I curled up there, trying to stifle the silly sobs against his hot skin. — Stephenie Meyer

I'm not your father." He cupped a hand under her chin. He saw the tears brimming, and her
valiant attempt to hold them off. "And neither are you. My being there for you, taking some of the
weight doesn't make you weak. It doesn't make you less, Sophie. — Nora Roberts

I remember understanding what a brutal thing it is to be the bearer of truly bad news - to break off a piece of that misery and hand it to other people, one by one, and then have to comfort them; to put their grief on your shoulders on top of all your own; to be the calm one in the face of their shock and tears. And then learning that relative weight of grief is immaterial. Being smothered a little is no different than being smothered a lot. Either way, you can't breathe. — Heather Cocks

What is the weight of a tear? The single tear falls when the buckets have stopped, when dry eyes and a slightly raised chin sometimes let it slip, like a prayer. It carries the weight of a lifetime. — Wendy Murray

I love you. Those three words have a deeply embedded history. They come with a whole lifetime of laughter and tears. So when I say them, I hope you feel the weight of my words because they bear everything I hope. They bear everything that I am. — June Gray

And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They have a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being. — Lord Byron

I learned the hard way not to open my heart to a stranger, knowing that it only leads to heartbreak, tears, and weight gain". — Gina Gershon

I recommend computer science to people who practice meditation. The mental structures that are used in computer science are very similar exercises done in Buddhist monasteries. — Frederick Lenz

The Chinese had first learned of the Roman Empire in 139 B.C., when the emperor Wudi had sent an envoy, Zhang Qian, past the deserts to seek allies to the west. Zhang Qian traveled for twelve years to what is now Turkistan and back and reported on the astounding discovery that there was a fairly advanced civilization to the west. In 104 B.C. and 102 B.C., Chinese armies reached the area, a former Greek kingdom called Sogdiana with its capital in Samarkand, where they met and defeated a force partly composed of captive Roman soldiers. — Mark Kurlansky