Who will cry for the little boy, lost and all alone? Who will cry for the little boy, abandoned without his own? Who will cry for the little boy? He cried himself to sleep. Who will cry for the little boy? He never had for keeps. Who will cry for the little boy? He walked the burning sand. Who will cry for the little boy? The boy inside the man. Who will cry for the little boy? Who knows well hurt and pain. Who will cry for the little boy? He died and died again. Who will cry for the little boy? A good boy he tried to be. Who will cry for the little boy, who cries inside of me?
He glared down at her. 'Yes. But you must not cry. I won't get you any dresses if you cry.' 'I don't normally cry.' 'You will never do it.' 'Well, I'm afraid I may sometimes, ' she said apologetically. 'Women need to cry.' Lines formed between his brows. 'How many times in a year?''Maybe five or six, ' she said, thinking about it. 'But really, it's usually a very small cry and not in front of anyone At that, his scowl grew even darker. 'I will permit you to cry four times a year. And you will do it when I am here.
Sometimes when I'm alone I Cry, Cause I am on my own. The tears I cry are bitter and warm. They flow with life but take no form I Cry because my heart is torn. I find it difficult to carry on. If I had an ear to confide in, I would cry among my treasured friend, but who do you know that stops that long, to help another carry on. The world moves fast and it would rather pass by. Then to stop and see what makes one cry, so painful and sad. And sometimes... I Cry and no one cares about why.
I'll get you another red dress.' She wiped the backs of her hands over her cheeks at the snarl. 'You will?' He glared down at her. 'Yes. But you must not cry. I won't get you any dresses if you cry.' 'I don't normally cry.' 'You will never do it.' 'Well, I'm afraid I may sometimes, ' she said apologetically. 'Women need to cry.' Lines formed between his brows. 'How many times in a year?''Maybe five or six, ' she said, thinking about it. 'But really, it's usually a very small cry and not in front of anyone At that, his scowl grew even darker. 'I will permit you to cry four times a year. And you will do it when I am here.
It's lonely to say goodbye. Very lonely. Please. Cry with me. Maybe there's nothing we can do about this. But at least, for now... cry with me. Like your entire body... is screaming at the sky. Like it's raging against the world. I lost something. And I don't have a single guarantee. The fear of living in this world again after that... I have only a shred of hope to sustain me. So I want you at least... to cry. Cry. Cry with me. Like the day you were first born into this world.
It's lonely to say goodbye. Very lonely. Please. Cry with me. Maybe there's nothing we can do about this. But at least, for now...cry with me. Like your entire body...is screaming at the sky. Like it's raging against the world. I lost something. And I don't have a single guarantee. The fear of living in this world again after that...I have only a shred of hope to sustain me. So I want you at least...to cry. Cry. Cry with me. Like the day you were first born into this world.
And that's when I realized that there's really two ways people cry. You cry when you're sorry for yourself, and then you cry when you are really sad. The tears you cry for yourself? Those are kid tears. You're crying because you want somebody to help you or pick you up. Your mom, your dad, the old lady next door... anyone.
The people are living seperately together," he said. "So there is responsibility. I cry, you cry. You cry, I cry. We all come running, and the one that stays quiet, the one that stays home, must explain. Is he in league with the criminals? Is he a coward? And what would he expect when he cries? This is simple. This is normal. This is community.
sometimes i'd wake up at two or three in the morning and not be able to fall asleep again. i'd get out of bed, go to the kitchen, and pour myself a whiskey. glass in hand, i'd look down at the darkened cemetary across teh way and the headlights of the cars on the road. the moments of time linking night and dawn were long and dark. if i could cry, it might make things easier. but what would i cry over? i was too self centered to cry for other people, too old to cry for myself.
I keep a lot of my problems bottled up inside me. That's why it's good, it's bad because I go through it, but it's really, what the fu*k I'm going through. That's why I ain't able to cry, I could try to make myself cry and it won't happen. But at the same time somebody could hear my song and they gonna cry for me.
Trae tha Truth
I tell you of loss, my child, so you will listen, slowly, and know that in life every emotion is fated to rear itself within your being. Don't judge it proper or ugly. It's simply there and yours. When you should happen to cry, then cry, knowing that just as easily you will laugh again and cry again. Your feelings will enter the currents of your core and there they shall remain
How do you meditate? You meditate with an inner cry. There should be an inner cry here, in the heart. The outer cry is ego-centred; it wants name and fame. ... While you are feeling this inner cry, you try to make the mind absolutely calm and quiet. If a thought enters your mind, you try to reject it. Consider this thought as a fly. When a fly comes to land on your arm, you don't allow the fly to remain; you just wave your hand and it goes away.
When you cry out against a God who punishes people in a place like hell, you cry out against the God who has revealed Himself in the pages of Scripture. You cry out against His goodness, holiness, and justice; and all the while you minimize your own sinfulness or the sinfulness of others.
Our bodies, speeches and minds need to be trained so that they will do anything we want. We can cry or laugh at once when we want to. Then it will be a natural response; we will cry when it is time to cry, and laugh when we should laugh. Do you understand? We can get angry when necessary; we can be gentle if we have to. We will completely become our own master. Then, no matter what we want to do, it will benefit the world. It is not difficult to attain this stage; all we need to do is to mediate.
He'll be cross if he sees I have been crying. They don't like you to cry. He doesn't cry. I wish to God I could make him cry. I wish I could make him cry and tread the floor and feel his heart heavy and big and festering in him. I wish I could hurt him like hell. He doesn't wish that about me. I don't think he even knows how he makes me feel. I wish he could know, without my telling him. They don't like you to tell them they've made you cry. They don't like you to tell them you're unhappy because of them. If you do, they think you're possessive and exacting. And then they hate you. They hate you whenever you say anything you really think. You always have to keep playing little games. Oh, I thought we didn't have to; I thought this was so big I could say whatever I meant. I guess you can't, ever. I guess there isn't ever anything big enough for that.
My problem with my parents growing up was not that I was afraid to cry in front of them - they always wanted me to cry because they wanted me to be okay, but it felt kind of icky and gross to cry in front of my parents. So my problem was the polar opposite - I didn't want to cry in front of them because I didn't want to give them the satisfaction.
Even when the stony cliff echoes your voice and responds when you cry, will not the Softest, Sweetest, Love-filled Heart of God respond? When there is no response, infer that there is something wanting in the cry; perhaps, the cry is hollow, insincere, mere play-acting set to a pattern, addressed to someone alien to oneself, taken to be far away and distant as a tyrant or task master.
A child's cry touches a father's heart, and our King is the Father of his people. If we can do no more than cry it will bring omnipotence to our aid. A cry is the native language of a spiritually needy soul; it has done with fine phrases and long orations, and it takes to sobs and moans; and so, indeed, it grasps the most potent of all weapons, for heaven always yields to such artillery.
Charles Haddon Spurgeon
There's no way to tell what will make someone break down in tears. There are some who will cry at the merest melancholy word, and there are some who need the longest, cruelest speech to even dampen one eyelash. There are those who will cry at any sad song but no sad book, and there are those who are immune to the most saddening newspaper articles but will weep for days over a terrible meal. People cry at silence or at violence, in a graveyard or a schoolyard.
It is always tedious when someone tells you that if you don't stop crying, they will give you something to cry about, because if you are crying then you already have something to cry about, and so there is no reason for them to give you anything additional to cry about, thank you very much.
I'm trying to teach my children not to cry. That's the big thing. No crying. Because I think we can all agree that crying is, for the most part, for sissies. If my team loses, I'm going to cry. And I'm going to want my kids to see me crying. Not because I think sports are so important, but because I bet so much money on the game that we'll probably lose the house if my team doesn't win. That's something to cry about.
Michael Ian Black
I didn't want my picture taken because I was going to cry. I didn't know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I'd cry for a week. I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.
Demons do not cry. You became a demon, because you couldn't cry anymore right? Humans cry and when their tears finally run dry, there's nothing left, not a demon nor a monster and one final prayer for death. So, laugh demon. Laugh that arrogant laugh of your and remember I beat you to it.
Why does a man cry? he wondered. Not like a woman; not for that. Not for sentiment. A man cries over the loss of something, something alive. A man can cry over a sick animal that he knows won't make it. The death of a child: a man can cry for that. But not because things are sad. A man, he thought, cries not for the future or the past but for the present.
Philip K. Dick
I'm always telling myself I don't have many feelings. Even when something does affect me I'm only moderately moved. I almost never cry. It's not that I'm stronger than the ones with teary eyes, I'm weaker. They have courage. When all you are is skin and bones, feelings are a brave thing. I'm more of a coward. The difference is minimal though, I just use my strength not to cry. When I do allow myself a feeling, I take the part that hurts and bandage it up with a story that doesn't cry, that doesn't dwell on homesickness.
I'm still Thinking of you All night long I'm still Wondering How you're feeling Tonight ... ? I can't wash away My tears Every time you cross My mind All my life I wished to be By your side ... . Oh baby Don't cry You had To say goodbye Life ain't easy Anymore Why...? Oh baby Don't cry It really hurts Sometimes Your heart is calling But no one Answer your cry ...
I suppose I've always done my share of crying, especially when there's no other way to contain my feelings. I know that men ain't supposed to cry, but I think that's wrong. Crying's always been a way for me to get things out which are buried deep, deep down. When I sing, I often cry. Crying is feeling, and feeling is being human. Oh yes, I cry.
YOU BEEN RIDING HARD AND YOU'VE SEEN THE FACE OF HEAVEN, THE LAWMAN HAS NO MERCY ON YOUR ONE KISS AND YOU'RE GONE, JUST LIKE A TIMELESS REBEL, FROM AN AGE OF UNSUNG STORIES TOLD. SO DIVINE THIS LIFE YOU LIVE WITH SHATTERED LIES, IT'S ALL THE PRICE YOU PAY WHEN YOU'RE LIVING FOR THE NIGHT. HEAR THE CRY, HEAR YOU CALLIN', HEAR THE CRY, CRY OF THE GYPSY. HANG 'EM HIGH IF YOU CATCH HIM, HEAR THE CRY... YOU CAN PLAY THE GAME, THO YOU SACRIFICE CONTENTMENT, ALWAYS HAUNTED BY DEMONS FROM THE WHEN YOUR PRIDE IS GONE YOU'LL BE PRAYING THAT IT'S NOT TOO LATE, 'CAUSE YOU KNOW THAT IT WON'T LAST. IN YOUR EYES NO FEAR TO DEMORALIZE, THE HEAT IS RISING, RISING FROM THE REPEAT CHORUS
Axel Rudi Pell
The core of liberation theology is profoundly "theologal" - that is, rooted in the very nature of God. You see, there's an immediate relationship between God, oppression, liberation: God is in the poor who cry out. And God is the one who listens to the cry and liberates, so that the poor no longer need to cry out. ( Leonardo Boff, p. 166)
These tears are proof that there is love in the world. Tears are only bitter when we cry selfishly for ourselves. When we deny and forget the sweet love that tears are made of. When we let sorrow turn to anger. When people cry for each other, it is a good thing. Always remember that you are a human being, connected to all other human beings. When you cry for others you are opening your heart to God, who must see what we do and weep for us, too, for the suffering we cause to one another and to ourselves.