To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: Atimeto be born, and atimeto die; atimetoplant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; Atimetoweep, and atimeto laugh; atimetomourn, and a time to dance: A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.
Weep not for little Le onie Abducted by a French Marquis! Though loss of honour was a wrench Just think how it's improved her French.
To evoke posterity Is to weep on your own grave, Ventriloquizing for the unborn.
Weep If you can, Weep, But do not complain And you must be thankful.
Ah! as the heart grows older It will come to such sights colder By and by, not spare a sigh Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie; And yet you will weep and know why.
Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor, So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new spangled ore, Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves.
'Why weep ye by the tide, ladie? Why weep ye by the tide? I'll wed ye to my youngest son, And ye sall be his bride: And ye sall be his bride, ladie, Sae comely to be seen' But aye she loot the tears down fa' For Jock of Hazeldean.
I weep for Adonaishe is dead! O, weep for Adonais! though our tears Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head!
But when I plead, she bids me play my part, And when I weep, she says tears are but water: And when I sigh, she says I know the art, And when I wail, she turns herself to laughter.
Sedulo curavi, humanas actiones non ridere, non lugare, neque detestari, sed intelligere. I have striven not to laugh at human actions, not to weep at them, nor to hate them, but to understand them.
Home they brought her warrior dead. She nor swooned, nor uttered cry: All her maidens, watching said, 'She must weep or she will die.'
Laugh, and the world laughs with you: Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, It has trouble enough of its own.
Webster's New World Dictionary of Quotations Copyright © 2010 by Chambers Harrap Publishers Ltd. All rights reserved. Published by Wiley, Hoboken, NJ. Used by arrangement with John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
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