Joy And Grief Quotes Page 2

But beneath it all will run that Sicilian understanding that the underside of joy is grief, that the face of sacrifice and suffering is the dark mirror image of pleasure and enjoyment, that every moment of arrival is to be treasured and enjoyed in the full knowledge that it has brought us a moment closer to the moment of departure.

Poems allow us not only to bear the tally and toll of our transience, but to perceive, within their continually surprising abundance, a path through the grief of that insult into joy.

I was given life because it was my time, and now I take leave of it according to the same law. Content with the natural sequence of these events, I am touched neither by joy nor by grief. I am simply hanging in the air ... incapable of freeing myself, tied by the threads of things.

The true poetry of life: the poetry of the commonplace, of the ordinary man, of the plain, toil-worn woman, with their loves and their joys, their sorrows and their griefs.

Death is as casual and often as unexpected as birth.

It is as difficult to define grief as joy. Each is finite. Each will fade.

A man may manifest and communicate his joy, but he should conceal and smother his grief as much as possible.

Men ought to know that from the brain, and from the brain only, arise our pleasures, joy, laughter and jests, as well as our sorrows, pains, griefs, and tears.

I take no joy in mead nor meat, and song and laughter have become suspicious strangers to me. I am a creature of grief and dust and bitter longings. There is an empty place within me where my heart was once.

Grief and love are conjoined, you don't get one without the other.

All I can do is love her, and love the world, emulate her by living with daring and spirit and joy.

Even his griefs are a joy long after to one that remembers all that he wrought and endured.

A myriad of men are born; they labor and sweat and struggle; ...they squabble and scold and fight; they scramble for little mean advantages over each other; age creeps upon them; infirmities follow; ...those they love are taken from them, and the joy of life is turned to aching grief. It comes at last--the only unpoisoned gift earth ever had for them--and they vanish from a world where they were of no consequence, ...a world which will lament them a day and forget them forever.

Rejoicing refers to moderation of spirit when the mind keeps itself in calmness under adversity and does not give indulgence to grief. Constant praying is the way of 'rejoicing perpetually', for by this means we ask from God alleviation in connection with all our distresses.

Christianity did not come with tidings of great joy, but with a message of eternal grief. It came with the threat of everlasting torture on its lips. It meant war on earth and perdition hereafter.

O man! Take heed!What saith deep midnight's voice indeed?I slept my sleep--,From deepest dream I've woke, and plead: The world is deep, And deeper than the day could read.Deep is its woe--,Joy--deeper still than grief can be:Woe saith: Hence! Go!But joys all want eternity,Want deep, profound eternity!

Joy and grief decide character. What exalts prosperity? what imbitters grief? what leaves us indifferent? what interests us? As the interest of man, so his God - as his God, so he.

Take one fresh and tender kiss Add one stolen night of bliss One girl, one boy, some grief, some joy Memories are made of this.

Every day has its great grief or its small anxiety.

... One cloud is dispelled, another forms. There is hardly one day in a hundred of real joy and bright sunshine.

A thousand recollected lives were passing through her, a thousand stories - of love and work, of parents and children, of duty and joy and grief. Beds slept in and meals eaten, and the bliss and pain of the body, and a view of summer leaves from a window on a morning it had rained; the nights of loneliness and the nights of love, the soul in it's body keeping always longing to be known.

To the outside world we all grow old.

But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time.

Grief, and an estate, is joy understood,

We may have civilized bodies and yet barbarous souls.

We are blind to the real sights of this world; deaf to its voice; and dead to its death. And not till we know, that one grief outweighs ten thousand joys will we become what Christianity is striving to make us.

In the midst of excitement, grief, joy, and solitude, I remind myself every moment that the sole mission of my life is to find the ultimate questioner - that unimaginable who has put me in this madness to answer an unanswerable question.

Nay, do not grieve tho' life be full of sadness,Dawn will not veil her spleandor for your grief,Nor spring deny their bright, appointed beautyTo lotus blossom and ashoka leaf.Nay, do not pine, tho' life be dark with trouble,Time will not pause or tarry on his way;To-day that seems so long, so strange, so bitter,Will soon be some forgotten yesterday.Nay, do not weep; new hopes, new dreams, new faces,The unspent joy of all the unborn years,Will prove your heart a traitor to its sorrow,And make your eyes unfaithful to their tears.

Joy and grief are never far apart. In the same street the shutters of one house are closed while the curtains of the next are brushed by the shadows of the dance. A wedding party returns from the church; and a funeral winds to its door. The smiles and

Music exalts each joy, allays each grief, expels diseases, softens every pain, subdues the rage of poison, and the plague.

Grief, and an estate, is joy understood.

Friendship improves happiness, and abates misery, by doubling our joys, and dividing our grief

I write every day, for most of the day, so it's just about turning into metaphor whatever's going on in my life, in the world, and in my head. Every nightmare, every moment of grief or joy or failure, is a moment I can convert into cash via words. I use everything. Turning life into stories is how I make sense of my experience.

How does God teach me love? By putting me around unlovely people.

How does God teach me joy in the middle of grief? Not happiness, which is based on happenings. How does God teach me peace? Not when I am out fishing and everything is going my way and it doesn't get better than this. But in the middle of chaos. How does God teach me patience? By putting me in His waiting room.

There is no fullness of joy in the next life without a family unit, including a husband, a wife, and posterity. Further, men are that they might have joy. In the eternal perspective, same-gender activity will only bring sorrow and grief and the loss of eternal opportunities.

Living the same sorrows three times was a suffering, but it was a suffering to relive even the same joys. The joy of life is born from feeling, whether it be joy or grief, always of short duration, and woe to those who know they will enjoy eternal bliss.

Congratulations to all the members of the wonderful Treorchy Male Choir past and present. In moments of grief or joy, the sound of the Choir can move and uplift and restore spirits like no other sound. Masters of their craft, each and every singer plays a vital role in helping maintain such a fantastic musical tradition. Long may the Choir prosper and continue to the delight of audiences around the world.

Freindships multiply joys and divide griefs

Jesus never tried to hide his loneliness and dependence on other people.

He chose his disciples not as servants but as friends. He shared moments of joy and grief with them, and asked for them in times of need. They became his family, his substitute mother and brothers and sisters. They gave up everything for him, as he had given up everything for them. He loved them, plain and simple.

Most poetry is the utterance of a man in some state of passion, love, joy, grief, rage, etc., and no doubt this is as it should be. But no man is perpetually in a passion and those states in which he is amused and amusing, detached and irreverent, if less important, are no less amusing. If there were no poets who, like Byron, express these states, Poetry would lack something.