Words are tears that have been written down. Tears are words that need to be shed. Without them, joy loses all its brilliance and sadness has no end.[As palavras são lágrimas que foram escritas. As lágrimas são palavras que precisam jorrar. Sem elas, nenhuma alegria tem brilho, nenhuma tristeza tem um final.]
The tears stream down my cheeks from my unblinking eyes. What makes me weep so? From time to time. There is nothing saddening here. Perhaps it is liquefied brain.[Les larmes ruissellent le long de mes joues sans que j’éprouve le besoin de cligner les yeux. Qu’est-ce qui me fait pleurer ainsi? De temps en temps. Il n’y a rien ici qui puisse attrister.]
The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.[Les larmes du monde sont immuables. Pour chacun qui se met à pleurer, quelque part un autre s’arrête. Il en va de même du rire.]
Tears. The woman’s weapon, my lady mother used to call them. The man’s weapon is a sword. And that tells us all you need to know, doesn’t it?
Laughter and tears are not separate experiences, with intervals of rest: they rush out together and it is like walking with a sword between your legs.
Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion, to the futility of thinking and striving anymore. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.