Quotes About Crying

I am crying, he thought, opening his eyes to stare through the soapy, stinging water. I feel like crying, so I must be crying, but it's impossible to tell because I'm underwater. But he wasn't crying. Curiously, he felt too depressed to cry. Too hurt. It felt as if she'd taken the part of him that cried.

When I was in high school, I remember seeing girls crying in the bathroom every Monday about what they did that weekend. I never wanted to be that girl crying in the bathroom.

If [Eva Braun] was crying upstairs, it wouldn't be long before [Adolf] Hitler would quietly excuse himself and then make things right. What he said to her, I don't know. Whether he said the words "I'm sorry," I don't know. But he was a charmer, he knew how to stop a woman from crying.

One time I was doing a speech to a group of kids, and just before I get there, I see this little kid crying. I found out they just lost a game, and he was the losing pitcher. I went over there, put my arm around him, and said, 'What are you crying for? When major league players lose, they don't cry.'

But what am I? An infant crying in the night: An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry.

My parents were in the studio when we cut 'Let Me Try' and every time I sang it they started crying, ... I finally had to ask them to leave because I couldn't sing it while they were crying.

And he isn't crying for her, not for his grandma, he's crying for himself: that he: too, is going to die one day. And before that his friends wil die, and the friends of his friends, and, as time passes, the children of his friends, and, if his fate is truly bitter, his own children. (58)

Do not be afraid of seeming different and being criticized for what might seem to be losing or out of fashion; your peers but adults too, especially those who seem more distant from the mindset and values of the Gospel, are crying out to see someone who dares to live according to the fullness of humanity revealed by Jesus Christ.

Those fellows, they're always crying over killers. Never a thought for the victims.

I'm crazy for trying, crazy for crying, and I'm crazy for loving you.

I can look back at my darkest periods and realize that these were the times when the Lord was holding me closest. But I couldn't see His face becasue my face was in His breast...crying.

I find I have to be the sad clown: laughing on the outside, crying on the inside.

Or maybe crying is like everything else we do- it's best if you don't get caught.

...it was more like bleeding than crying.

[Boycott Oscar] is like crying about not having enough icing on your cake. It's just ridiculous.

My kids say if there's any family dinner that doesn't result in somebody crying, it's not a good dinner. They cry because it helps relieve them of a guilt or some onerous emotional burden. It's like a family tradition.

Dr. Oaks made the remark that, according to the best estimate he could make, there were four hundred murders annually produced by abortion in that county alone....There must be a remedy for such a crying evil as this.

Nothing makes an android feel more useless than when a human is crying.

From a building right in front of my windows, I can observe the speed of the sunrises and sunsets. The voices of children playing, laughing, yelling, and crying on the playground crawl up to the eighth floor, where I write. Their voices sound so innocent from a distance.

If I cry on telly, I'm genuinely crying. If it's a gritty scene it can come naturally.

Remember that there are two things in this life that are never worth crying about: what can be cured and what cannot be cured.

Thank God I am 20 feet tall, so my crying is never mistaken as weak. It can be mistaken as weird, but not weak.

To be much for God, we must be much with God. Jesus, that lone figure in the wilderness, knew strong crying, along with tears. Can one be moved with compassion and not know tears? Jeremiah was a sobbing saint. Jesus wept! So did Paul. So did John. Though there are some tearful intercessors behind the scenes, I grant you that to our modern Christianity, praying is foreign.

I am not a big crier. But I'd say it was after the Mendes fight. It was not because of the fight as such. It was everything leading up to it. It had been such a tough time. When I did my knee, I had some very dark times. Life is all about ups and downs and I'd say there had been a lot of downs, but I got through it, I won and after the fight, I was standing in the shower and I was crying, just letting it all go.

(After getting out of another treatment center) I came home one Sunday morning. I sat on the edge of my bed. I never grew up going to church. I never read a Bible. I wasn't anti-God. I just never thought about God. I just lived for myself and thought about myself...I was married by this point. I'd been married for two years. So, here I am sitting on the edge of my bed, nine o'clock Sunday morning. I have a son who's not quite two yet and I just broke down crying because I had been out all weekend doing cocaine.

But for me to have the opportunity to stand in front of a bunch of executives and present myself, I had to hustle in my own way. I can't tell you how frustrating it was that they didn't get that. No joke - I'd leave meetings crying all the time.

So we know she's safe and taken care of?" Daniel asked, and she nodded. "Good. Then why don't we do something that you want to do?" "Like what?" "I don't know. What do you like to do?" "Um...." Her stomach rumbled, since crying always made her hungry. "I like eating breakfast." "That's so weird." Daniel grinned. "Because I like making French toast." "That works out, doesn't it?

They eat, they crap, they sleep, and if they're crying they need to do one of the three and they're having trouble doing it. Real simple.

The words went round and round and round in my mind and my body, until I knew they were no longer my words but something that had been carved into my heart. And now my soul was crying.

I turn into a crying, hysterical maniac when I see a spider. It's pathetic.

Down in the city are the nice houses and the so-so houses and the lovers making out in dark yards and the babies crying for their moms, and I wonder if, other than Jesus, has this ever happened before. Maybe it happens all the time. Maybe there's angry dead all over, hiding in rooms, covered with blankets, bossing around their scared, embarrassed relatives. Because how would we know?

They didn't know why these things were funny. Sometimes you laugh because you've got no more room for crying. Sometimes you laugh because table manners on a beach are funny. And sometimes you laugh because you're alive, when you really shouldn't be.

Crying never helped anybody do anything, okay? You have a problem, you face it like a man.

She was like a lone angel floating above the surface of the earth, laughing with delight because she could fly but crying out of loneliness.

Our culture needs to find a robust image of female success that is first, not male, and second, not a white woman on the phone, holding a crying baby.

So every day So every day I was surrounded by the beautiful crying forth of the ideas of God, one of which was you.

I mostly want to remind her of the recipes of healing, and give her my own made-on-the spot remedy for the easing of her pain. I tell her, “Get a pen. Stop crying so you can write this down and start working on it tonight.” My remedy is long. But the last item on the list says: “When you wake up and find yourself living someplace where there is nobody you love and trust, no community, it is time to leave town – to pack up and go (you can even go tonight). And where you need to go is any place where there are arms that can hold you, that will not let you go.

If only, if only," the woodpecker sighs, "The bark on the tree was as soft as the skies." While the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely, Crying to the moo-oo-oon, "If only, If only.

I felt so lonesome I most wished I was dead. The stars were shining, and the leaves rustled in the woods ever so mournful; and I heard an owl, away off, who-whooing about somebody that was dead, and a whippowill and a dog crying about somebody that was going to die.

I watched her for a long time, memorizing her shoulders, her long-legged gait. This was how girls left. They packed up their suitcases and walked away in high heels. They pretended they weren't crying, that it wasn't the worst day of their lives. That they didn't want their mothers to come running after them, begging their forgiveness, that they wouldn't have gone down on their knees and thanked god if they could stay.

Most bullies are the product of a stressful and often abusive home life. Next time a bully threatens or attacks you, just yell, 'Don't abuse me like your parents abuse you!' Then call children's services and tell them you saw this bully crying in the bathroom and you're worried about him. Bam! He just got moved to a foster home.

I like the shaman very much, the way he was crying.

Sometimes crying or laughing are the only options left, and laughing feels better right now.

When I joined Granada - which, you don't want to start crying about these things, but Granada was a very, very hot place to be, it was my good fortune to be there at that time - the BBC was firmly asleep.

I love you," he said. "You're more dear to my heart than I ever knew anyone else can be. And I've made you cry; and there I'll stop." She was crying, but not because of his words. It was because of a certainty she refused to consider while she sat before him.

If, on thinking this, I look up to see if reality can quench my thirst, I see inexpressive facades, inexpressive faces, inexpressive gestures. Stones, bodies, ideas - all dead. All movements are one great standstill. Nothing means anything to me, not because it's unfamiliar but because I don't know what it is. The world has slipped away. And in the bottom of my soul - as the only reality of this moment - there's an intense and invisible grief, a sadness like the sound of someone crying in a dark room.

It's no use crying over spilt milk, because all of the forces of the universe were bent on spilling it.

That was his mother. When she wasn't crying over the breakfast cereal, she was laughing about killing herself.