Book Of Counted Sorrows Quotes

On the Road that I have taken, one day walking I awaken, amazed to see where I've come, where I'm going, where I'm from.

In the real world as in dreams nothing is quite what it seems. -The Book of Counted Sorrows

Now take my hand and hold it tight. I will not fail you here tonight, For failing you, I fail myself And place my soul upon a shelf In Hell's library without light. I will not fail you here tonight.

Kindness Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth. What you held in your hand, what you counted and carefully saved, all this must go so you know how desolate the landscape can be between the regions of kindness. How you ride and ride thinking the bus will never stop, the passengers eating maize and chicken will stare out the window forever. Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness, you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho lies dead by the side of the road. You must see how this could be you, how he too was someone who journeyed through the night with plans and the simple breath that kept him alive. Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. You must wake up with sorrow. You must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows and you see the size of the cloth. Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore, only kindness that ties your shoes and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread, only kindness that raises its head from the crowd of the world to say It is I you have been looking for, and then goes with you everywhere like a shadow or a friend.

Whiskers of the cat, Webbed toes on my swimming dog; God is in the details.

Dare we linger, dare we skate? Dare we laugh or celebrate, knowing we may strain the ice? Preserve the ice at any price?

The sky is deep, the sky is dark. The light of the stars is o damn stark/When I look up, I fill with fear, if all we have is what lies here, this lonely world, this troubled place, then cold dead stars and empty space...Well, I see no reason to persevere, no reason to laugh or shed a tear, no reason to sleep and none to wake/ No promises to keep and none to make. And so at night I still raise my eyes tos tudy the clear but mysterious skies that arch avove us, cold as stone. Are you there God? Are we alone?

The whisper of the dusk is night shedding its husk.

Holy men tell us life is a mystery. They embrace that concept happily. But some mysteries bite and bark and come to get you in the dark.

Life is a gift that must be given back and joy should arise from its possession. It's too damn short and that's a fact. Hard to accept this earthly procession to final darkness is a journey done, circle completed, work of art sublime, a sweet melodic rhyme. A battle won.

We have a weight to carry and a distance we must go. We have a weight to carry, a destination we can't know. We have a weight to carry and can put it down nowhere. We are the weight we carry from there to here to there.

Nowhere can a secret keep Always secret, dark and deep, Half so well as in the past, Buried deep to last, to last. Keep it in your own dark heart. Otherwise the rumors start. After many years have buried Secrets over which you worried, No confidant can then betray All the words you didn't say. Only you can then exhume Secrets safe within the tomb Of memory, of memory, Within the tomb of memory. -The Book of Counted Sorrows

Night has patterns that can be read less by the living than by the dead. —The Book of Counted Sorrows

Courage, love, friendship, Compassion, and empathy Lift us above the simple beasts And define humanity. – The Book of Counted Sorrows

We long to find the splendid light that will cast a revelatory beam upon the meaning of the human dream. —The Book of Counted Sorrows

We have a weight to carry and a distance we must go. We have a weight to carry, a destination we can’t know. We have a weight to carry and can put it down nowhere. We are the weight we carry from there to here to there. —The Book of Counted Sorrows

One door away from Heaven, We live each day and hour. One door away from Heaven, But it lies beyond our power To open the door to Heaven And enter when we choose. One door away from Heaven, And the key is ours to lose. One door away from Heaven, But, oh, the entry dues. —The Book of Counted Sorrows

Is there some meaning to this life? What purpose lies behind the strife? Whence do we come, where are we bound? These cold questions echo and resound Through each day, each lonely night. We long to find the splendid light That will cast a revelatory beam Upon the meaning of the human dream. – The Book of Counted Sorrows

Nevertheless, like many of today’s reformers, Riis considered teachers the determining factor in whether a child escaped poverty. In his 1892 book The Children of the Poor, he wrote that schools are “our chief defense against the tenement and the flood of ignorance with which it would swamp us … it is the personal influence of the teacher that counts for most in dealing with the child. It follows it into the home, and often through life to the second and third generation, smoothing the way of sorrow and hardship with counsel and aid in a hundred ways.

An Ant in the Mouth of the Furnace Sorrow likes itself most when it’s At its best being A barrier Impenetrable. An obstacle. A veil that can’t be torn. When beyond its deckled edges sorrow won’t let you see. As if you were a blue blur on paper intended to be a child’s image of heaven. And it takes more bearing because more of it is always coming. And it takes up space where space has never been. Where there is no space. Where no space has ever been. And it will not move. And brings all else to a standstill. To no longer be in a state of grief is also a state. To encounter the respite it is Is to judge Sometimes one’s self Other times others. There must be a name somewhere For what’s not there For what doesn’t By its aggravating presence Begin to replicate what’s gone. Goat in the snow. My life’s work. Man overboard. Black & blue overcoat. Orange eyes. Bleeding wall. Ring-tailed neck riverbed blanket. It’s not As though After all Suits every blue circumstance As if — what’s that — — what comes after — After which is Is no other After afterall No after other All as if at Last all that That grieving It is over — So as to make room for another You are doing something With someone who isn’t here How many conversations With who isn’t Able to talk back Is one human allotted? Things were only Like they were Because we were Having them together. Having them without you Is another thing altogether Before when You once were Here we was A something never failing We could Be counted on We would Have always been What we were No wonder

Just see the smile on each hound’s face. The chase can’t last; the dogs must feed. It will come to pass with terrifying speed. —The Book of Counted Sorrows 41 In Ventura, they abandoned the yellow Cadillac.

This is America, where failure is decried. This is America, and death must denied." - Book of Counted Sorrows

This is not the path I thought, This not the place I sought. This not the dream I bought, Just a fever of fate I've caught.

The tired dog lies licking it's feet Absorbed, quiet and so discrete. ... You can tell by the canine smiles, It's tasting the mem'ry of miles.

Rush headlong and hard at life, Or just sit at home and wait. All things right and all things wrong, Will come to you: it's fate."{

Night can be sweet as a kiss, Though not a night like this. .... Give me that same cold kiss. I'll join her then in bliss.

Is the end of the world a-coming? Is that the Devil they hear humming? Are those doomsday bells a-ringing? Is that the Devil they hear singing? Or are their dark fears exaggerated? Are these doom-criers addlepated? Those who fear the coming of all Hells are those who should be feared themselves. —The Book of Counted Sorrows A fanatic does what he thinks the Lord would do if He knew the facts of the case. —Finley Peter Dunne

Satan hasn’t a single salaried helper; the Opposition employs a million. —Mark Twain The hounds, the hounds come baying at his heels. The hounds, the hounds! The breath of death he feels. —The Book of Counted Sorrows

Everything that deceives also enchants. —Plato There’s no escape From death’s embrace, though you lead it on a merry chase. The dogs of death enjoy the chase. Just see the smile on each hound’s face. The chase can’t last; the dogs must feed. It will come to pass with terrifying speed. —The Book of Counted Sorrows

He led them forth by the right way." Psalm 107:7 Changeful experience often leads the anxious believer to inquire "Why is it thus with me?" I looked for light, but lo, darkness came; for peace, but behold, trouble. I said in my heart, my mountain standeth firm; I shall never be moved. Lord, thou dost hide thy face, and I am troubled. It was but yesterday that I could read my title clear; today my evidences are bedimmed, and my hopes are clouded. Yesterday, I could climb to Pisgah's top, and view the landscape o'er, and rejoice with confidence in my future inheritance; today, my spirit has no hopes, but many fears; no joys, but much distress. Is this part of God's plan with me? Can this be the way in which God would bring me to heaven? Yes, it is even so. The eclipse of your faith, the darkness of your mind, the fainting of your hope, all these things are but parts of God's method of making you ripe for the great inheritance upon which you shall soon enter. These trials are for the testing and strengthening of your faith--they are waves that wash you further upon the rock--they are winds which waft your ship the more swiftly towards the desired haven. According to David's words, so it might be said of you, "So he bringeth them to their desired haven." By honour and dishonour, by evil report and by good report, by plenty and by poverty, by joy and by distress, by persecution and by peace, by all these things is the life of your souls maintained, and by each of these are you helped on your way. Oh, think not, believer, that your sorrows are out of God's plan; they are necessary parts of it. "We must, through much tribulation, enter the kingdom." Learn, then, even to "count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations." "O let my trembling soul be still, And wait thy wise, thy holy will! I cannot, Lord, thy purpose see, Yet all is well since ruled by thee.

Now, stop being so sentimental and let's enjoy our final day in Venice. What would you like to do?" Just then, we were passing a chocolatier and I was drawn to the arrays of goodies on display. I suddenly had a voracious appetite for chocolate, which I later would realize was transference from my sexual desire for the Count. I suggested we go into the chocolate shop.  Since Ramiz and Ubaid couldn’t eat during daylight hours, they continued browsing the antiques market while we ventured into the store. There were so many temptingly delicious chocolates; I couldn't squelch the urge to try as many varieties as possible. I was using chocolates to drown my sorrows for being stupid enough to fall in love with an Italian Casanova. Why was I missing this ‘man-izer,’ when I already had a fabulous lover standing by my side? I sat at a corner table drinking latte and eating choc olates, gobbling the delicious sweets, my comfort food. "Young, I'm worried about you. You’re behaving very strangely today. I've never seen you eat like a mad person. Tell me what's wrong. I want to help." Tears began flowing again as I continued to stuff chocolate after chocolate in my mouth. How could I tell my beloved what was happening inside my head when I myself didn’t know what was wrong with me? The more I cried, the more I ate. I consumed dozens of chocolates. "I don't know what’s wrong with me. I'm a silly stupid boy!" I started banging my head against the wall where I was leaning. Andy looked very concerned and commanded, "Young! Stop it! You are hurting yourself. Stop this nonsense at once!" I blurted out, in the midst of sobs, "Is parting always such a difficult thing to do?" Andy, not realizing I was grieving over Mario, caught hold of my hands and whispered into my ears, "My sweet darling boy! I'm here, aren’t I? And I'm not leaving you anytime soon." Wiping my tears I said between sobs, "I know, I know! You are the kindest person in the world and I love you very much." "Well then, stop this silly crying.

By honour and dishonour, by evil report and by good report, by plenty and by poverty, by joy and by distress, by persecution and by peace, by all these things is the life of your souls maintained, and by each of these are you helped on your way. Oh, think not, believer, that your sorrows are out of God's plan; they are necessary parts of it. "We must, through much tribulation, enter the kingdom." Learn, then, even to "count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations.

A Christian counts sorrow lighter in the scale than sin; he can bear that his troubles should continue, but he cannot support the burden of his transgressions.

Suddenly the idea struck me that surely it was selfish to ask Heaven for anything; would it not be better to reflect on all that had already been given to me, and to offer up thanks? Scarcely had this thought entered my mind when a sort of overwhelming sense of unworthiness came over me. Had I ever been unhappy? I wondered. If so, why? I began to count up my blessings and compare them with my misfortunes. Exhausted pleasure-seekers may be surprised to hear that I proved the joys of my life to have far exceeded my sorrows. I found that I had sight, hearing, youth, sound limbs, an appreciation of the beautiful in art and nature, and an intense power of enjoyment

There was yet a visit to the doctor. ‘A simple formality,’ assured me the secretary, with an air of taking an immense part in all my sorrows.

For sadness, we can reach out for comfort or count our blessings. As we saw, sadness is an emotion that expresses our need for one another, and our sorrows are halved when shared. We can also recognize that while sadness may last longer than other emotions, it, too, will pass. All life, the sadness and sorrow included, is impermanent and will end. There are always going to be highs and lows in any life, in any year, in any day. So much of our mood comes from what we focus on. We can choose to focus on what is going well for us and for the people in our life. As the Archbishop said, we can count our blessings. By putting our attention on the things we are grateful for, we can shift how much time we spend in sadness and how quickly we return to joy. The Dalai Lama’s ability to focus on what has been enriching about life in exile rather than all that has been lost has allowed him to go beyond sadness, grief, and even despair.

Henry Scott-Holland: Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, And the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no differences into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

On the Road that I have taken, one day walking I awaken, amazed to see where I've come, where I'm going, where I'm from.” By Book of Counted Sorrows