Though those that are betray'd Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor stands in worse case of woe
Woe, destruction, ruin, and decay; the worst is death and death will have his day.
Woe be to him that reads but one book.
Sing, seraph with the glory! heaven is high. Sing, poet with the sorrow! earth is low. The universe's inward voices cry "Amen" to either song of joy and woe. Sing, seraph, poet! sing on equally!
Woe to those who make unjust laws, to those who issue oppressive decrees, to deprive the poor of their rights and withhold justice from the oppressed of my people, making widows their prey and robbing the fatherless.
Sometimes the best cure for life’s woes is a sense of humor.
No scene of mortal life but teems with mortal woe.
There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness.
If, as you believe there is an Almighty, Omnipresent, Omniscient God, who created the earth or universe, please let me know, first of all, as to why he created this world. This world which is full of woe and grief, and countless miseries, where not even one person lives in peace. . . . Where is God? What is He doing? Is He getting a diseased pleasure out of it? A Nero! A Genghis Khan! Down with Him!
Not suffering, but faint heart, is worst of woes.
The Green-eyed Monster causes much woe, but the absence of this ugly serpent argues the presence of a corpse whose name is Eros.
The sweetest joy, the wildest woe is love.
Woe to the man who tries to stretch the imagination of man He shall be mocked he shall be scourged by the blinkered guardians of morality.
Woe to him inside a non-conformist clique who does not conform to non-conformity.
Mission is a duty about which one must say 'Woe to me if I do not evangelize' (1 Corinthians 9:16). . . redemption and mission are acts of love [because] those who proclaim the Gospel participate in the charity of Christ.
Woe to him who saw no more sense in his life, no aim, no purpose, and therefore no point in carrying on.
Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know That life protracted is protracted woe.
Change follows change in us, almost without transition; we pass from blissful rapture to sobbing woe; a single step divides our sublimest ecstasies from the darkest depth of spiritual despondency.
The Morning after Woe- Tis frequently the Way- Surpasses all that rose before- For utter Jubilee-.