Death's the discharge of our debt of sorrow.
The man who has learned to triumph over sorrow wears his miseries as though they were sacred fillets upon his brow; and nothing is so entirely admirable as a man bravely wretched.
Small sorrows speak great ones are silent.
He grieves more than is necessary who grieves before any cause for sorrow has arisen.
Light griefs do speak, while sorrow's tongue is bound.
No emotion falls into dislike so readily as sorrow.
