You’re too important to just … die.” He shakes his head. He won’t even look at me—his eyes keep shifting across my
face, to the wall behind me or the ceiling above me, to everything but me. I am too stunned to be angry.
“I’m not important. Everyone will do just fine without me,” I say.
“Who cares about everyone? What about me?
There are thousands out there who are looking for someone like you, why should you keep on crying for that bloody motherfucker who doesn't deserve you and your love?
When she cried, he would say, "there is nothing wrong with crying. Your feelings tell you who are. They tell what is important. Don't ever be ashamed of them.
For better or worse, she was the lady Soraya. And the lady Soraya would never dream of missing the warm bulk of Casia's body between her and the hearth, or the comforting drone of Ludo's snores. Or the wry laughter of a slave... a slave, for Azura's sake! The lady Soraya needed no one.
The lady Soraya cried herself to sleep.
Sunny held Kit, and Violet held Klaus, and for a minute the four castaways did nothing but weep, letting their tears run down their faces and into the sea, which some have said is nothing but a library of all tears in history.
Touch my song with your lips, make it immortal,
be my beloved, make my love immortal.
No restriction of age, not the bond of lives,
when someone love should see only the soul,
by carving new trend, make the trend immortal.
Loneliness of the sky is in my lone heart,
with rattleing paayal enter into my life,
by giving own breaths make the music immortal
make the music immortal, make my song immortal.
World snatched from me, whatever was beloved to me,
all won from me, I lost at every moment,
by losing your heart you make my victory immortal.
written By "Honthon Se Chhoo Lo Tum - Jagjit Singh
Dear Eloisa (said I) there’s no occasion for your crying so much about such a trifle. (for I was willing to make light of it in order to comfort her) I beg you would not mind it – You see it does not vex me in the least; though perhaps I may suffer most from it after all; for I shall not only be obliged to eat up all the Victuals I have dressed already, but must if Henry should recover (which however is not very likely) dress as much for you again; or should he die (as I suppose he will) I shall still have to prepare a Dinner for you whenever you marry any one else. So you see that tho perhaps for the present it may afflict you to think of Henry’s sufferings, yet I dare say he’ll die soon and then his pain will be over and you will be easy, whereas my Trouble will last much longer for work as hard as I may, I am certain that the pantry cannot be cleared in less than a fortnight
Love is like a door knob that I’ve mistaken for a shower handle, and I’m trying to turn up the heat on our relationship, but the handle won’t turn and I’ve got shampoo in my eyes and my wetsuit is dry and I started crying just as the zookeeper asked me to leave.
I don't want to cry for Edward- at least not in the deep, personal way that you cry for a friend or loved one. I want to cry because something terrible happened, and I saw it, and I could not see a way to mend it.