You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness but it's really hard to feel happiness when you're in deep sorrow.The feeling of horror and sorrow won't disappear even until tomorrow.Any fool can be happy. It takes a person with a real heart to make beauty out of the stuff that makes us weep.

 

If our destiny stems from our name, then I weep for the flower named Wilt.When you've suffered a great deal in life, each additional pain is both unbearable and trifling.Running away from your thoughts will never make you fill okay,it's disturbing.

Life isn't something you could deal with it easily,it's like a mathematic test,however we calculate it,it will have an answer but it's not certain.

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depths of some devine despair. Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, and thinking of the days that are no more.

 

The only sadness that are dangerous and unhealthy are the ones that we carry around in public in order to drown them out with the noise, like diseases that are treated superficially and foolishly, they just withdraw and after a short interval break out again all the more terribly and gather inside us and are life, are life that is unlived, rejected, lost, life that we can die of.

Even a fool recognizes that there is great sadness in a bucket of tears. But only a wise man thinks to conserve water and use that bucket to wash his car.I waste at least an hour every day lying in bed. Then I waste time pacing. I waste time thinking. I waste time being quiet and not saying anything because I'm afraid I'll stutter.

 

I didn't know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of the throat and I'd cry for a week.I did not know how to reach , how to catch up with . The land of tears is so mysterious.

 

There is no beauty in sadness. No honor in suffering. No growth in fear. No relief in hate. It’s just a waste of perfectly good happiness.Sometimes we get sad about things and we don't like to tell other people that we are sad about them. We like to keep it a secret. Or sometimes, we are sad but we really don't know why we are sad, so we say we aren't sad but we really are.

 

I told myself that if I didn't care, this wouldn't have hurt so much surely that proved I was alive and human and all those touchy-feely things, for once and for all. But that wasn't a relief, not when I felt like a skyscraper with dynamite on every floor.

From the moment we were born,we begin to die .  .  .  .  .