“Sorrow fades, he muttered as he retrieved the last fragment, grief dies, but Art lives forever.”
“Drink my friends. You can never drink too much alcohol when you have drunk too much sorrow.” - Peter Kotara.”
“I wanted to putt my hand on this hand and hold it still under mine, made still by his made still. Oh he was bright and I was dark and I gave him all my darkness on that ship; but we joined, for all good things in the world, and to find somethin together; and loved, I never knew I could do it and was afraid; and on the bow of the ship that night that he said, What have we done Christy? I said, wonderin too, But somethin good will come of this, I know somethin good will come of this... Only sorrow came.”
“Ah, cruel fate, how swiftly joy and sorrow alternate!”
“Wherefore is there ice and snow, chilling winds and bitter nights? Is it to mock the earth for its sunshine? No, not so! We forget that sunlight is impossible without shadows; that for every day there is a night; that for every joy there is a pain; that for every laugh there is a sob. Progress is never a straight line upward; always it is down and then around.”
“I believe you did not have a happy life. I believe you were cheated. I believe your best friends were loneliness and misery. I believe your busiest enemies were anger and depression. I believe joy was a game you could never play without stumbling. I believe comfort, though you craved it, was forever a stranger. I believe music had to be melancholy or not at all. I believe no trinket, no precious metal, shone so bright as your bitterness. I believe you lay down at last in your coffin none the wiser and unassuaged. Oh, cold and dreamless under the wild, amoral, reckless, peaceful flowers of the hillsides.”
“exile is strangely compelling to think about but terrible to experience. It is the unhealable rift forced between a human being and a native place, between the self and its true home: its essential sadness can never be surmounted. And while it is true that literature and history contain heroic, romantic, glorious, even triumphant episodes in an exile’s life, these are no more than efforts meant to overcome the crippling sorrow of estrangement.”
“Whatever he goes through, I feel. Whatever I go through, he feels. It’s what happens when two people become one: they no longer only share love. They also share all of the pain, heartache, sorrow, and grief.”
“But I saw the pain and sadness in everything, and swirled it round my mouth like a fine wine.”