Joy and sorrow are next door neighbors
Sorrow is brief but joy is endless
There is peace and rest and comfort in sorrow
There is no greater sorrow than to be mindful of the happy time in misery.
Sorrow makes men sincere.
Sorrow is the mere rust of the soul. Activity will cleanse and brighten it.
Sorrow makes us all children again.
Night brings out stars as sorrow shows us truths.
There is a joy in sorrow which none but a mourner can know.
Abandon learning and there will be no sorrow
Sorrow is tranquility remembered in emotion.
Sorrow is easy to express and so hard to tell.
The poor and the busy have no leisure for sentimental sorrow.
Sorrow can be alleviated by good sleep, a bath and a glass of good wine
As this world was not intended to be a state of any great satisfaction or high enjoyment, so neither was it intended to be a mere scene of unhappiness and sorrow.
Sorrow makes an ugly face odious.
Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike.
Excess of joy is harder to bear than any amount of sorrow.
Never forget that the purpose for which a man lives is the improvement of the man himself, so that he may go out of this world having, in his great sphere or his small one, done some little good for his fellow creatures and labored a little to diminish the sin and sorrow that are in the world.
He is man whose heart is spirited and eyes are wet each moment on account of the sorrow, compassion, virtue, beauty, and nobility that decorate this world.
While both joy and sorrow are fleeting, and often intertwined, love has the power to overcome both. And love can last forever.
Impatience turns an ague into a fever, a fever to the plague, fear into despair, anger into rage, loss into madness, and sorrow to amazement.
Pain and sorrow and misery have a right to our assistance: compassion puts us in mind of the debt, and that we owe it to ourselves as well as to the distressed.
Sorrow happens, hardship happens, the hell with it, who never knew the price of happiness, will not be happy.
Let us be thankful that our sorrow lives in us as an indestructible force, only changing in form, as forces do, and passing from pain to sympathy. To have suffered much is like knowing many languages. Thou hast learned to understand all.