When we are born, we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools.
To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal, but sorrow flouted at is double death.
To cry at will is not an easy accomplishment.
Those who weep for the happy periods they encounter in history acknowledge what they want: not the alleviation but the silencing of misery.[Ceux qui pleurent après les sociétés heureuses qu’ils rencontrent dans l’histoire avouent ce qu’ils désirent: non pas l’allégement de la misère, mais son silence.]
Sometimes you had to laugh if only to keep from crying.
Sloppy crying had never helped anyone yet.
No, I’ll not weep: I have full cause of weeping; but this heart Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, Or ere I’ll weep.
I wish I hadn’t cried so much! I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by being drowned in my own tears! That will be a queer thing, to be sure! However, everything is queer to-day.[said Alice, as she swam about, trying to find her way out]
