We griev'd, we sigh'd, we wept; we never blush'd before.

Words that weep and tears that speak.

Thus would I double my life's fading space; For he that runs it well, runs twice his race.

Charm'd with the foolish whistling of a name.

The tears that you spill, the sorrowful, are sweeter than the laughter of snobs and the guffaws of scoffers.

In the morning, I need twenty minutes to cry, to wake up and make that shift, you know, and to just say, 'This really sucks'...to really allow yourself the fee…

I have laid sorrow to sleep; Love sleeps. She who oft made me weep Now weeps.