Sympathy Quotes

Spatial depths of being survive
The birth to death recurrences
Of feet dancing on earth of sand;
Vibrations of the dance survive
The sand; the sand, elect, survives
The dancer. He can find no source
Of magic adequate to bind
The sand upon his feet, his feet
Upon his dance, his dance upon
The diamond body of his being.

(Poem By Jean Toomer)

Higgledy piggeldy
Archangel Rafael,
Speaking of Satan’s re-
Bellion from God:

“Chap was decidedly
Turgiversational,
Given to lewdness and
Rodomontade.

(Poem By Anthony Hecht)

What needs complaints
When she a place
Has with the race
Of saints?
In endless mirth,
She thinks not on
What’s said or done
In earth
She sees no tears
Or any tone
Of thy deep groan
She hears
Nor does she mind
Or think on’t now
That ever thou
Wast kind
But changed above
She likes not there
As she did here
Thy love
Forbear, therefore,
And lull asleep
Thy woes, and weep
No more.

His eyes are quickened so with grief,
He can watch a grass or leaf
Every instant grow; he can
Clearly through a flint wall see,
Or watch the startled spirit flee
From the throat of a dead man.
Across two counties he can hear
And catch your words before you speak.
The woodlouse or the maggot’s weak
Clamour rings in his sad ear,
And noise so slight it would surpass
Credence–drinking sound of grass,
Worm talk, clashing jaws of moth
Chumbling holes in cloth;
The groan of ants who undertake
Gigantic loads for honour’s sake
(Their sinews creak, their breath comes thin);
Whir of spiders when they spin,
And minute whispering, mumbling, sighs
Of idle grubs and flies.
This man is quickened so with grief,
He wanders god-like or like thief
Inside and out, below, above,

Without relief seeking lost love.

(Poem By Robert Graves)

Now I knew I lost her
Not that she was gone
But Remoteness travelled
On her Face and Tongue.

Alien, though adjoining
As a Foreign Race
Traversed she though pausing
Latitudeless Place.

Elements Unaltered
Universe the same
But Love’s transmigration
Somehow this had come

Henceforth to remember
Nature took the Day
I had paid so much for
His is Penury
Not who toils for Freedom
Or for Family
But the Restitution
Of Idolatry.

(Poem By Emily Dickinson)

If I’m lost now
That I was found
Shall still my transport be
That once on me  those Jasper Gates
Blazed open suddenly

That in my awkward gazing face
The Angels  softly peered
And touched me with their fleeces,
Almost as if they cared
I’m banished  now you know it
How foreign that can be
You’ll know  Sir when the Savior’s face
Turns so  away from you.

(Poem By Emily Dickinson)