Crying - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
In tears the inner angel pleads for help and there, in that moment, is a chance to reach in and give the kind of nurture that changes lives forever.
They say sadness is behind anger, yet anger never comes unless in direct self defence, and so perhaps I can credit this natural passivity with my willingness to cry and feel pain, to let the sorrow teach me more about my true nature and how fragile we humans are.
After the storms the sunshine returns, and crying is much the same, so let it out, let it out.
Crying is a cleaning of the soul, a rebonding with the vulnerable self, a chance to realise what suffering and pain are for you... for others...
Crying is natural and strong for it belongs to those with the courage to show their vulnerable self.
Crying washes away my inner clutter and gives me a chance to clean house.
It is only natural to cry when we feel cold. Look up to the clouds, Jethro, they do it too. When they feel cold the water molecules lose energy and condense into droplets. Don't those droplets water the land? Don't they bring us healthy plants and food? Crying, my boy, is the same. It puts you in touch with all the goodness inside of you. That is why God loves the sound of a broken heart. He would have spared you the pain if He could, but if you cry you at least stay human. Clouds don't bottle it up, son, and neither should you. A little inner condensation every now and then should be encouraged.
It is my tears that keep my soul alive in the furnace of this pain. They cannot extinguish what has been, yet only carry me forward until a time comes when that searing pain is distant enough to forget more than remember, and maybe one day erase itself from my brain. So perhaps it may be an oddity to thank my tears and be proud to cry, yet if that's what saves me from becoming a monster, a person indifferent to suffering and sorrow, then crying is the smartest thing I can do.
She thought it should be illegal to be awake at the buttcrack of dawn. Then to be hit with that? Seriously? The ceramic mug clanked into the sink, "Could you excuse me, I need to use the restroom," She'd made her plausible getaway.
Did he really just suggest she go on a run with him super early in the morning? Two things she just didn't do, run or morning. It wasn't the same, it just wasn't, it couldn't be, could it? He always said he loved her body just the way it was. Her mind raced but she wouldn't let them see her start to panic. A steady pace upstairs to their suite, that's all she had to manage. Fat tears started to drop down her cheeks but there was no one to see them, none the wiser. Once the door was closed, she fell onto the bed face first. She wept, hot tears soaked into the sheets leaving damp evidence but the proof was written on her face; crying was hard to hide. When the door opened she knew she'd have to face her demons, none of them wore his face. He gently asked, "Are you ok?"