Sympathy Quotes

My soul is like the oar that momently
Dies in a desperate stress beneath the wave,
Then glitters out again and sweeps the sea:
Each second I’m new-born from some new grave.

(Poem By Sidney Lanier)

NOR judge me light, tho’ light at times I seem,
And lightly in the stress of fortune bear
The innumerable flaws of changeful care -
Nor judge me light for this, nor rashly deem
(Office forbid to mortals, kept supreme
And separate the prerogative of God!)
That seaman idle who is borne abroad
To the far haven by the favouring stream.
Not he alone that to contrarious seas
Opposes, all night long, the unwearied oar,
Not he alone, by high success endeared,
Shall reach the Port; but, winged, with some light breeze
Shall they, with upright keels, pass in before
Whom easy Taste, the golden pilot, steered.

(Poem By Robert Louis Stevenson)

THERE are some powerful odours that can pass
Out of the stoppard flagon; even glass
To them is porous. Oft when some old box
Brought from the East is opened and the locks
And hinges creak and cry; or in a press
In some deserted house, where the sharp stress
Of odours old and dusty fills the brain;
An ancient flask is brought to light again,
And forth the ghosts of long-dead odours creep.
There, softly trembling in the shadows, sleep
A thousand thoughts, funereal chrysalides,
Phantoms of old the folding darkness hides,
Who make faint flutterings as their wings unfold,
Rose-washed and azure-tinted, shot with gold.

A memory that brings languor flutters here:
The fainting eyelids droop, and giddy Fear
Thrusts with both hands the soul towards the pit
Where, like a Lazarus from his winding-sheet,
Arises from the gulf of sleep a ghost
Of an old passion, long since loved and lost.

So I, when vanished from man’s memory
Deep in some dark and sombre chest I lie,
An empty flagon they have cast aside,
Broken and soiled, the dust upon my pride,
Will be your shroud, beloved pestilence!
The witness of your might and virulence,
Sweet poison mixed by angels; bitter cup
Of life and death my heart has drunken up!

(Poem By Charles Baudelaire)

Red lotus incense fades on
The jeweled curtain. Autumn
Comes again. Gently I open
My silk dress and float alone
On the orchid boat. Who can
Take a letter beyond the clouds?
Only the wild geese come back
And write their ideograms
On the sky under the full
Moon that floods the West Chamber.
Flowers, after their kind, flutter
And scatter. Water after
Its nature, when spilt, at last
Gathers again in one place.
Creatures of the same species
Long for each other. But we
Are far apart and I have
Grown learned in sorrow.
Nothing can make it dissolve
And go away. One moment,
It is on my eyebrows.
The next, it weighs on my heart.

(Poem By Li Ching Chao)

Am I kin to Sorrow,
That so oft
Falls the knocker of my door
Neither loud nor soft,
But as long accustomed,
Under Sorrow’s hand?
Marigolds around the step
And rosemary stand,
And then comes Sorrow
And what does Sorrow care
For the rosemary
Or the marigolds there?
Am I kin to Sorrow?
Are we kin?
That so oft upon my door—
Oh, come in

( Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay)

When things are hard and troublesome,
And life for you looks dim
Bills and debts grow daily,
And finances seem to slim.
The car won’t start and kids are sick,
And the ground’s too hard to hoe;
The breads all gone, the water shut off,
And still the corn won’t grow.

Your mate is gone, friends are few,
And sorrow fills your soul;
There seems to be no end in sight,
And your days are black as coal.
Nothing one can say or do,
Can ease the pain you feel;
As life goes on, you just get worse,
And soon you will be ill.

The only advice I’d give to you,
Is stand and don’t give in;
For Satan has come to destroy you,
And force you into sin.
He lies and hits you with all he has,
And tells you, you will loose;
He craftily tries to wear you down,
So him, you will choose.
But be of cheer and never quit,
For short is Satan’s time.
Keep your faith and be repaid,
With interest on the dime.

(Poem By Gary R. Ferris)