C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.
Weeping
We weep and laugh, as we see others do.
Love, Gratitude, and Pity wept at once.
And weep the more because I weep in vain.
There is a certain pleasure in weeping; grief finds in tears both a satisfaction and a cure.
What remains when hope is fled? She answered, “Endless weeping.”
Every woman is in the wrong until she cries, and then she is in the right instantly.
For one drop calls another down, till we are drowned in seas of grief.
There is something so moving in the very image of weeping beauty.
This heart shall break into a hundred thousand flaws or ere I’ll weep.
The tear down childhood’s cheek that flows is like the dew-drop on the rose.
Trust not a woman when she weeps, for it is her nature to weep when she wants her will.
In silence weep, and thy convulsive sorrow inward keep.
Larded all with sweet flowers, which bewept to the grave did go, with true-love showers.
The April’s in her eyes; it is love’s spring, and these the showers to bring it on.
My tears are buried in my heart, like cave-locked fountains sleeping.
Weeping is not alone woman’s weapon, but also a specific for transient sorrows.
I so lively acted with my tears that my poor mistress, moved therewithal, wept bitterly.
When from soft love proceeds the deep distress, ah! why forbid the willing tears to flow?
Were both the golden Indies mine, I’d give both Indies for a tear.
Weep not for him that dieth; for he sleeps, and is at rest.
Then let these useless streams be stayed; wear native courage in your face.
She was a good deal shocked,—not shocked at tears, for women shed and use them at their liking.
What women would do if they could not cry, nobody knows. What poor, defenceless creatures they would be!
Do not weep, my dear lady! Your tears are too precious to shed for me; bottle them up, and may the cork never be drawn.