Tears On My Pillow Quotes & Sayings

When it was done and I went to sleep, I lay awake and listened to the clock on your nightstand and the wind outside and understood that I was really home, that in bed with you was home, and something that had been getting close in the dark was suddenly gone. It could not stay. It had been banished. It knew how to come back, I was sure of that, but it could not stay and I could really go to sleep. My heart cracked with gratitude. I think it was the first gratitude I've ever really known. I lay there beside you and the tears rolled down the sides of my face and onto the pillow. I loved you then and I love you now and I have loved you every second in between. I don't care if you understand me. Understanding is vastly overrated, but nobody ever gets enough safety. I've never forgotten how safe I felt with that thing gone out of the darkness. — Stephen King

14. Indifference
I SAID, - for Love was laggard, O, Love was slow to come,
"I'll hear his step and know his step when I am warm in bed;
But I'll never leave my pillow, though there be some
As would let him in - and take him in with tears!" I said.
I lay, - for Love was laggard, O, he came not until dawn, - 5
I lay and listened for his step and could not get to sleep;
And he found me at my window with my big cloak on,
All sorry with the tears some folks might weep! — Edna St. Vincent Millay

Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. "There is so much I want to say to you, but I know if I get started I'll start bawling, and I'm saving my tears for the pillow." I laughed. "You've been watching Dance Moms." "Possibly. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

I hate myself pretty often" .She tilted her face back on the pillow, damning tears and attempting so smile at the same time. "Pretty fucking often — Jim Lynch

If you bury your face in your tear-stained pillow and beg God to please send you your soul mate, may you not slur your words in such a way that they sound like "cell mate." — Rob Brezsny

i love good cries,
loud sobs that soak your pillow
that kind that come at the end
of a perfect book

you're gasping for air
as droplets of salt water
trickle down your cheeks
into the corners of your mouth
as your chest rises and falls
and your vision is blurred
by the tears

but your mind is so clear
and your every thought
in that moment
feels so meaningful
and important and right

it feels okay to just
let it all out
it makes you feel like
you are free — Madisen Kuhn

He'd given her all the love he could give tonight without taking her maidenhead, undressing her, carrying her to his bed, kissing away her tears, caressing her, bringing her to her peak with his hands again and again, until she lay, weak and utterly spent, in his arms. Then he'd held her through the watches of the night, wishing dawn would never come.
"Tha moran ghradh agam ort, dh'Amaliedh," he whispered. My love lies upon you, Amalie.
He lifted the rosary from around his neck and placed the wooden beads in her palm. Then he took the tartan sash from his French uniform and draped it across the pillow beside her, branding her with Clan MacKinnon's colors. Would she know what that meant? — Pamela Clare

Waste forces within him, and a desert all around, this man stood still on his way across a silent terrace, and saw for a moment, lying in the wilderness before him, a mirage of honourable ambition, self-denial, and perseverance. In the fair city of this vision, there were airy galleries from which the loves and graces looked upon him, gardens in which the fruits of life hung ripening, waters of Hope that sparkled in his sight. A moment and it was gone. Climbing to a high chamber in a well of houses, he threw himself down in his clothes on a neglected bed, and its pillow was wet with wasted tears. — Charles Dickens

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

The queen smiled as she lay her head upon the pillow. When I kissed her cheek, I could taste the salt of her tears. — George R R Martin

I shift my position on the sofa, so my head is on a big, lumpy pillow in Greenie's lap and Georgia is leanign back against my middle and Claire is just about asleep on the floor. Allison and I catch eyes, and she tilts her head and smiles, and when I smile back, we both well up with tears, I think beause we both recognize that whatever else may be unfolding, this is happiness. — Kelly Corrigan

In bed that night I invented a special drain that would be underneath every pillow in New York, and would connect to the reservoir. Whenever people cried themselves to sleep, the tears would all go to the same place, and in the morning the weatherman could report if the water level of the Reservoir of Tears had gone up or down, and you could know if New York is in heavy boots. — Jonathan Safran Foer

I, who had had my heart full for hours, took advantage of an early moment of solitude, to cry in it very bitterly. Suddenly a little hairy head thrust itself from behind my pillow into my face, rubbing its ears and nose against me in a responsive agitation, and drying the tears as they came. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Love!" She threw the pillow aside and sat up, pulling the be clothes around her. "You hypocrite. 'Tis nothing to you to say that, is it? You prate about love and roses and devotion, but you don't know the meaning of the word. You never have, and I doubt you ever will."
He let out a harsh breath. "I don't understand you. How you can say that, after - " He spread his hands and made a baffled sound. "After this."
"This! This is fancy, 'tis infatuation, 'tis a dream. Maybe you love your horses, maybe you love Nemo - all you require of me is a reflection of yourself. You and your bloody mask!" She was crying openly now, her head tilted back, her eyes shut against the tears. "Don't keep trying to dress it up as love, because I know what love is, and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. — Laura Kinsale

A few minutes later, John got up, put his clothes back on, palmed his liquor bottle, and left.
As the door clicked shut, Xhex pulled the duvet over herself.
She did nothing to try to control the shakes that rattled her body, and didn't attempt to stop herself from crying. Tears left both of her eyes at the far corners, slipping out and flowing over her temples. Some landed in her ears. Some eased down her neck and were absorbed by the pillow. Others clouded her vision, as if they didn't want to leave home.
Feeling ridiculous, she put her hands to her face and captured them as best she could, wiping them on the duvet.
She cried for hours.
Alone. — J.R. Ward

Hyacinth, who wept before sleep, had wept that night; he had wept too - had wept in joy and pain, and in joy at his pain. When tears were done and their heads rested on one pillow, she had said that no man had ever wept with her before. Two floors below them, their reflected images knelt in the fishpond at Thelxiepeia's feet, subsistent but invisible. There she would weep for him longer than they lived. He lowered his naked body into a rising pool, warm and scarcely less romantic. Ermine — Gene Wolfe

But instead of tears, when I press my face against the pillow, a horrible, primal scream comes out of me. It's unlike anything I thought myself capable of. Rage, unlike anything I've ever known. — Lauren DeStefano

When afterwards I tried to tell my aunt, she punished me again for my wicked persistence. Then, as I said, everyone was forbidden to listen to me, to hear a word about it. Even my fairy-tale books were taken away from me for a time - because I was too 'imaginative'. Eh! Yes, they did that! My father belonged to the old school ... And my story was driven back upon myself. I whispered it to my pillow - my pillow that was often damp and salt to my whispering lips with childish tears. And I added always to my official and less fervent prayers this one heartfelt request: 'Please God I may dream of the garden. O! take me back to my garden. — H.G.Wells

Tears came to my eyes when I read of a mere boy in one of our eastern cities who noticed a vagrant asleep on a sidewalk and who then went to his own room, retrieved his own pillow, and placed it beneath the head of that one whom he knew not. Perhaps there came from the precious past the welcome words: 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me' (Matt. 25:40). — Thomas S. Monson

Days grow hotter and life grows shorter.
Time is somehow running out.
She flips her pillow
so she won't have to sleep on her tears. — Toby Barlow

Holding my pendant, I lay on my side without moving, noiseless tears streaming down my face until the pillow grew damp beneath my cheek. I didn't want to die. I wanted to live, to be with Alex, to experience so much more than I had so far. But just then, it was Alex I was crying for. All that he'd gone through, all those deaths of people he loved
and now he was having to experience it again, with me. Thinking of what he was going through was like being beaten up inside; it was even worse than imagining whatever might happen the next day. Part of me hoped that he really did hate me now
maybe it would help; maybe it would make it not hurt so much.
And more than that, I guess I was crying for both of us ... that it hadn't turned out to be always, after all. — L.A. Weatherly

American Jihad
I've heard the lullabies of celestial spheres,
the songs of clouds which falls like tears,
sang paeans of praise to anthem skies,
in soulful strains of knee-jerk lies.

I've shot children clutching Kalashnikovs,
gunned down women tossing molotovs;
'Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."'

Now the dead have camped out in my dreams,
each night I listen to their screams,
I count the lullaby stars, one-by-one,
while under my pillow I keep a gun. — Beryl Dov

She did nothing to try to control the shakes that rattled her body,and didn't attempt to stop herself from crying. Tears left both of her eyes at the far corners,slipping out and flowing over her temples.Some landed in her ears. Some eased down her neck and were absorbed by the pillow.Others clouded her vision,as if they didn't want to leave home. — J.R. Ward

Maybe I would wake tomorrow and find that it had all been a dream, that Alexei was still alive and Mal was unhurt, that no one had tried to kill me, that I'd never met the King and Queen or seen the Apparat, or felt the Darkling's hand on the nape of my neck. Maybe I would wake to smell the campfires burning, safe in my own clothes, on my little cot, and I could tell Mal all about this strange and terrifying, but very beautiful, dream. I rubbed my thumb over the scar in my palm and heard Mal's voice saying, "We'll be okay, Alina. We always are." "I hope so, Mal," I whispered into my pillow and let my tears carry me to sleep. — Leigh Bardugo

And now I may dismiss my heroine to the sleepless couch, which is the true heroine's portion - to a pillow strewed with thorns and wet with tears. And lucky may she think herself, if she get another good night's rest in the course of the next three months. — Jane Austen

Marre was thrilled in the morning when she lifted her pillow to see George Washington frowning up at her. However, when she returned from school that afternoon, she was devastated. What had happened? Through her tears Marre choked out, "The Tooth Fairy hates my tooth! Why did Nellie get twenty dollars for her tooth!?" Because Nellie's parents didn't have change, that's why. — Jim Gaffigan

Hulk sat there silently for a moment, playing with the empty shot glass in his hand. "Well, I love you, too," Hulk mumbled quietly as he quickly stood and walked toward the kitchen, put the shot glass in the sink, and went to his bedroom. Clint watched in amazement as the big cop left the room. Even though he knew it to be true, Clint was shocked that Hulk had actually said it. As he sat there letting it sink in, he felt a single tear roll down each cheek. Little did Clint know that in Hulk's bedroom, the tears were flooding the big man's eyes as he buried his face in his pillow and bawled as he hadn't done since he was a boy. — William T. Prince

And so a greater share of the night, Laura shed tears into her soft white pillow. Some of them were for old Oscar Lutz.... Some of them were for the general sad fact that hours fly and flowers die. But most of them were shed because of her own sudden and definite realization that even though there come new days and new ways,--love stays. — Bess Streeter Aldrich

She choked on a sob.
She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't. She refused to cry about Gifford.
But then she did. She was a sixteen-year-old girl, after all, and sometimes a sixteen-year-old girl needs to throw herself into a pillow and let the tears come as they may. — Cynthia Hand

It hurts," she whispered, wrapping her arms around a pillow and pulling it closer to her chest. Her eyes stayed closed, and I watched a few tears slip out. "Being left behind hurts. — Brittainy C. Cherry

In her dreams the Hawk would be waiting for her by the sea's edge; her kilt-clad, magnificent Scottish laird. He would smile and his eyes would crinkle, then turn dark with
smoldering passion.
She would take his hand and lay it gently on her swelling abdomen, and his face would blaze with happiness and
pride. Then he would take her gently, there on the cliff's edge, in tempo with the pounding of the ocean. He would
make fierce and possessive love to her and she would hold on to him as tightly as she could. But before dawn, he would melt right through her fingers. And she would wake up, her cheeks wet with tears and her hands clutching nothing but a bit of quilt or pillow. — Karen Marie Moning

Leave me in peace, let me sleep one night at least without my pillow being wet with tears, my eyes burning and my head throbbing — Anne Frank

Unnoticed, the passage has occurred; as I brood, autumn dusk dewdrops fall on my pillow. The voices of insects and the deer by the fence, as one, disturb me to tears this autumn dusk. — Princess Shikishi

My heart is crushed, my knees are weakened. My tears drench my pillow, my tears flood my bed every night. Do you know how much I miss you father of my children. — Euginia Herlihy

Tears impress no one. But, oh yeah, there's no one here to impress. So I go ahead and let tears fall. Rain. Storm. Flood. My pillow soaks with the salt of regret, and I rest my head against it ... — Ellen Hopkins

I lie down on my bed, my back to the window, and the tears finally arrive, running down my face, into my ears, onto my pillow. I lie there for a long time, for hours maybe, and right as I'm about to finally drift to sleep I think I hear the flutter of Christian's wings as he flies away. — Cynthia Hand

If one shed tears, they must be shed on one's pillow. — Henry Adams

When I wake up, my pillow's cold and damp with tears. But tears for what? I have no idea. — Haruki Murakami

She brought a finger to her mouth, licked it. Salt. A clean scent. Not male sweat rich with the scent of musk and masculine flesh, but something else. Something purer. Tears.
"Iain?"
He trembled and she could have sworn she heard his tears run down his cheeks and plop onto the pillow.
"My God, Beth. I've seen you. I've seen you in my heart and in my soul." And then he stiffened, pressed his fingers into her hips, squeezing. "Can I, Beth? Can I come inside you?"
"Yes," she murmured, holding him close, feeling his
body shudder beneath hers. "And stay forever. — Charlotte Featherstone

If you'd only let me come by myself, none of this would have happened. Having you around makes everything worse.'
She buried her head under her pillow. 'Stop it! you're so cold! You're heartless, you little robot!' The pillow muffled her words, but they still stung.
'I feel things,' I said. 'I'm not a robot!' I stamped my foot and screamed. Then I burst into tears. I touched the wet little drops and held them toward her. 'See, I'm not a robot. This is proof. — Natalie Standiford

She's not here," I tell him. Buttercup hisses again. "She's not here. You can hiss all you like. You won't find Prim." At her name, he perks up. Raises his flattened ears. Begins to meow hopefully. "Get out!" He dodges the pillow I throw at him. "Go away! There's nothing left for you here!" I start to shake, furious with him. "She's not coming back! She's never ever coming back here again!" I grab another pillow and get to my feet to improve my aim. Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. "She's dead, you stupid cat. She's dead. — Suzanne Collins

Home at last. Why was I not feeling relief? I turn in m bed thinking of the last time that I had laid my head on that pillow. Sadness took over me almost instantly. A pillow soaked in tears, the feeling of someone tearing a part of my chest out, it replayed in my head as if it had happened yesterday. I coculdn't believe that that girl was me. I was so much stronger than that, how had I allowed myself to become so vulnerable? I never thought that I would be the girl who'd get her heart broken. I never thought that he'd be the one to break it. But I was, and I know he did. I know, because, no one will ever know how much I cried that night. — Everance Caiser

Worthless. It wasn't that I viewed my tears as a weakness; it was that I knew what they'd said was true. I was a nothing. No one looked forward to seeing me in the morning. No one laid his head on his pillow at night to dream of me. I existed by pure accident, and no one would let me forget how unwanted I was. — Teresa Mummert

Sometimes,' he whispered at last, 'sometimes, I dream I am singing, and I wake from it with my throat aching.'
He couldn't see her face, or the tears that prickled at the corners of her eyes.
'What do you sing?' she whispered back. She heard the shush of the linen pillow as he shook his head.
'No song I've ever heard, or know,' he said softly. 'But I know I'm singing it for you. — Diana Gabaldon

That night she dreamed of the deer. Strangely, the animal was holding her. She cuddled close into the soft fur and touched and kissed it gently. In the morning her pillow was wet with tears. — Julie Andrews Edwards

Get out!" He dodges the pillow I throw at him. "Go away! There's nothing left for you here!" I start to shake, furious with him. "She's not coming back! She's never ever coming back here again!" I grab another pillow and get to my feet to improve my aim. Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. "She's dead." I clutch my middle to dull the pain. Sink down on my heels, rocking the pillow, crying. "She's dead, you stupid cat. She's dead. — Suzanne Collins

The door closed behind her, and Ed just stood there - unable to connect with the present reality. It was as though he had been zapped by a stun gun of words, and the effect had made him momentarily immobile. A few minutes passed, and he broke free from the paralyzing shock. He walked into the bedroom that he and Laura had once shared. Now, like him, it was missing her presence. Pictures had been taken off of the dresser, the scented candles were gone, and her pillow was not on the bed. He walked over to the closet, opened it up, and found that her clothes, and shoes were also gone. He looked around the half empty room, and found himself venturing into a tormenting cycle of confusion. A livid syrup had just been poured out onto a panicked waffle that had been setting on a perturbed plate for several daunting months, and Ed suddenly found himself acquiring an unhealthy appetite for destruction. Tears began to fall down his face, and an inward storm began to rage. — Calvin W. Allison