Wan February with weeping cheer, Whose cold hand guides the youngling year Down misty roads of mire and rime, Before thy pale and fitful face The shrill wind shifts the clouds apace Through skies the morning scarce may climb. Thine eyes are thick with heavy tears, But lit with hopes that light the year's.
To me, the stories that have always intrigued me are the stories of people leaving my movies and being affected by them. They walk home 20 blocks the wrong way. Or they lock themselves in their office. Or they find themselves weeping when in the shower after the film. And those intrigue me, because I know I've touched something inside them.
I drive around the streets an inch away from weeping, ashamed of my sentimentality and possible love.
No one can tell if I’m laughing or weeping. I wonder myself.
The waterwheel accepts water and turns and gives it away, weeping.
Teenagers blithely skip off to uncertain futures, while their parents sit weeping curbside in the Volvo, because the adolescent brain isn't yet formed enough to recognize and evaluate risk.
It is as if the soul of the continent is weeping. Why does it weep? It weeps for the bones of the buffalo. It weeps for magic that has been forgotten. It weeps for the decline of poets. It weepsfor the black people who think like white people. It weepsfor the Indians who think like settlers. It weepsfor the children who think like adults. It weepsfor the free who think like prisoners. Most of all, it weepsfor the cowgirls who think like cowboys.
Now let the weeping cease; Let no one mourn again. These things are in the hands of God.
Radomosity, thought Artemis. And he felt like weeping.
I went inside my heart to see how it was. Something there makes me hear the whole world weeping.
The weeping of the candle is not in mourning for the moth: the dawn is at hand, and it is thinking of its own dark night.
Trust not a woman when she weeps, for it is her nature to weep when she wants her will.
I wept not, so to stone within I grew.
When you get into Louisiana, it really is like a different country in a lot of ways. The plants you see are a little different, like the weeping willows and the cypress trees that come up out of the bayou. And it's steamy hot.
There should be weeping at a man's birth, not at his death.
In a cruel land, you either learned to laugh at cruelty or spent your life weeping.
we are nature. We are nature seeing nature. We are nature with a concept of nature. Nature weeping. Nature speaking of nature to nature.
I wept like a child. It was not because I was overcome at having survived my ordeal, though I was. Nor was it the presence of my brothers and sisters, though that too was very moving. I was weeping because. . . . fill in the blank with whateverwhoever helped you survive. . . had left me so unceremoniously.
But Ship Who Sang remains my favorite story. I really rocked folks with that and still cannot read it aloud myself without weeping at the end
I was weeping again, drunk on the impossible past.
