Lament Quotes

“Boy, why are you crying?”
― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

“When evening in the Shire was grey
his footsteps on the Hill were heard;
before the dawn he went away
on journey long without a word.

From Wilderland to Western shore,
from northern waste to southern hill,
through dragon-lair and hidden door
and darkling woods he walked at will.

With Dwarf and Hobbit, Elves and Men,
with mortal and immortal folk,
with bird on bough and beast in den,
in their own secret tongues he spoke.

A deadly sword, a healing hand,
a back that bent beneath its load;
a trumpet-voice, a burning brand,
a weary pilgrim on the road.

A lord of wisdom throned he sat,
swift in anger, quick to laugh;
an old man in a battered hat
who leaned upon a thorny staff.

He stood upon the bridge alone
and Fire and Shadow both defied;
his staff was broken on the stone,
in Khazad-dûm his wisdom died.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

“Misfortune, and recited misfortune especially, can be prolonged to the point where it ceases to excite pity and arouses only irritation.”
― Dorothy Parker

“I didn't want normal until I didn't have it anymore”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Lament: The Faerie Queen's Deception

“We live in a world that is beyond our control, and life is in a constant flux of change. So we have a decision to make: keep trying to control a storm that is not going to go away or start learning how to live within the rain.”
― Glenn Pemberton, Hurting with God

“A premature death does not only rob one of the countless instances where one would have experienced pleasure, it also saves one from the innumerable instances where one would have experienced pain.”
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“Thery're both iron, isn't that funny?"
"Funny haha or funny strange?"
James handed them back to me "Funny 'occult'"
"Ah. Funny strange"
James looked at me sternly, "Don't start that. I'm supposed to be the humorous one”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Lament: The Faerie Queen's Deception

“Everything good in life is either immoral, illegal or fattening.”
― Nicole Richie

“Go, go, magic clover.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Lament: The Faerie Queen's Deception

“The tragedy of Dionysus: Wear a black robe at night, and white you’ll wear by morning; but wear a purple robe to the midnight feast, and when you wake you’ll dress in black to mourn your soul deceased.”
― Roman Payne, Crepuscule

“Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.

And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.

And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.

I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.”
― Fred E. Weatherly

“Prayerful lament is better than silence. However, I've found that many people are afraid of lament. They find it too honest, too open, or too risky. But there's something far worse: silent despair. Giving God the silent treatment is the ultimate manifestation of unbelief. Despair lives under the hopeless resignation that God doesn't care, he doesn't hear, and nothing is ever going to change. People who believe this stop praying, they give up. This silence is a soul killer.”
― Mark Vroegop, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy: Discovering the Grace of Lament

“Lament will not allow us to revert to easy answers. There is no triumphalistic and exceptionalistic narrative of the American church that can cover up justice. There are no easy answers to unabated suffering. Lament continues.”
― Soong-Chan Rah, Prophetic Lament: A Call for Justice in Troubled Times

“To lament means to express sorrow or regret. Lamenting something horrific that has taken place allows a deep connection to form between the person lamenting and the harm that was done, and that emotional connection is the first step in creating a pathway for healing and hope. We have to sit in the sorrow, avoid trying to fix it right away, avoid our attempts to make it all okay.”
― LaTasha Morrison, Be the Bridge: Pursuing God's Heart for Racial Reconciliation

“You can lament over what could have been, or you can do something bold; use that energy to create an enviable future. It is up to you.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Being Bold: Quotes, Poetry, & Motivations for Every Day of the Year

“Predominantly white churches are praising and worshiping and celebrating while rarely entering into the power of lament that is experienced in predominantly black, Hispanic and Native American gatherings.”
― David Docusen, Neighborliness: Finding the Beauty of God Across Dividing Lines

“Perhaps the compulsion to lay a woman’s life before me and slowly explore each layer started in the dissection room; so many of our most steadfast patterns are begun in those years between childhood and adulthood.”
― Doireann Ní Ghríofa, A Ghost in the Throat

“It is a token of a healthy spirit to freely lament your loss and hold dearly the pain and sorrow that come with it, being at the same time careful not to cling to the past, let alone mentally live in the past. The sorrow and the pain are the unerring proofs that what you have lived was strong and real, and that nothing was in vain!”
― Giannis Delimitsos

“Lament leads to petition which leads to praise Gods' response to the petition.”
― Soong-Chan Rah

“The language of lament is the language of humility.”
― Soong-Chan Rah, Prophetic Lament: A Call for Justice in Troubled Times

“The term justice is too casually thrown about without the corresponding sacrifice. We want the popularity associated with being justice activists, but we don't want to lament alongside those who suffer. | The city lament calls us to remember to ongoing pain that is very real on the streets of the city. The funeral dirge calls us to not ignore the painful history. The communal lament reminds us that while sin is personal, it must never be seen as individualistic.”
― Soong-Chan Rah, Prophetic Lament: A Call for Justice in Troubled Times

“In my anger, I begin to sense some project that might answer the nurse's query. Perhaps I'd always known what it was all for. Perhaps I'd stumbled upon my true work. Perhaps the years I'd spent sifting the scattered pieces of this jigsaw were not in vain; perhaps they were a preparation. Perhaps I could honour Eibhlín Dubh's life by building a truer image of her days, gathering every fact we hold to create a kaleidoscope, a spill of distinct moments, fractured but vivid. Once this thought comes to me, my heart grows quick. I could donate my days to finding hers, I tell myself, I could do that, and I will.”
― Doireann Ní Ghríofa, A Ghost in the Throat

“India's political economy is replete with tales of how things did not happen. The lament is preceded by the ubiquitous 'if only', about how solutions were thought of but the ideas did not translate into action.”
― Shankkar Aiyar, Aadhaar: A Biometric History of India's 12-Digit Revolution

“After lunch, mother and daughter sat outside on the porch to talk men. From where the world starts to where it ends, when women start to lament men the sun could drop from the sky and they would not realise.”
― Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi, A Girl Is a Body of Water

“Aunt YA walked in, saw Kirabo, and wailed, 'Tom, you have not loved this child enough!’ and got down on her knees and keened. Uncle Ndiira disappeared. The women picked up Aunt YA’s lament like a tidal wave.”
― Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi, A Girl Is a Body of Water

“Ha retardat la trucada a la mare perquè tem la seva intimitat feta de laments.”
― Marta Orriols, Dolça introducció al caos

“Emeline turned around to discover the biggest, blackest horse breathing on her face. She stared up into enormous golden eyes. Flecks of red dusted the horse's irises, like a fire sparking, and her hot breath smelled like smoke.
Holy hell.
Emeline stepped quickly back----straight into the boy. The scent of him enveloped her: like crushed pine needles and oiled leather.
"This is Lament."
"Uh-huh," she whispered, staring at the massive beast, which was pawing the ground as if to say, I'm getting impatient! Let us leave! When she threw back her head, those golden eyes flickered red.”
― Kristen Ciccarelli, Edgewood

“Lament's trot soon became a canter. Her canter, a gallop. The forest blurred around them as they picked up speed, blazing through copses and thickets, the rhythm of the horse's hooves drumming like thunder.
Despite the stinging wind crushing past them, it wasn't cold. Heat radiated from Lament's black coat, and when Emeline looked down she found red flames flickering in the horse's mane. Tongues of fire engulfed Emeline's fingers, licking her skin. She jerked hand free, staring in horror. But her fingers were unsinged.
Holy cats!
Was Lament an ember mare?
It was impossible. The wild, unearthly horses were forged of fire and said to be uncatchable. Untamable. In no story she knew had one ever been ridden.
But Emeline had thought shadow skins impossible too.
The pungent tang of smoke smoldered in the air. They were out of the Stain---nothing dead surrounded them here. The forest was lush and green and living. But in the distance, Emeline saw red.
Fire.
It surged toward them from the right, spreading quickly. Emeline was about to cry out in alarm, in case the boy at her back hadn't seen it, when she heard the sound of hoofbeats. Hundreds of them. Pummeling the earth in time with Lament's.
Wait.
Emeline squinted into the distance.
It wasn't a forest fire advancing on them. It was a massive herd of ember mares. Their black bodies raged red, like burning coal, and their manes smoldered with bright flames. They were stampeding, headed straight for Lament with no sign of slowing or stopping.”
― Kristen Ciccarelli, Edgewood

“All around them, ember mares rushed alongside Lament. They had never intended to trample her but to join her. The graceful rhythm of their muscular bodies, the thunder in their hooves as they ran...they mesmerized Emeline. Moving as one, they reminded her of a cresting wave. A sea of fire.
And beyond their blazing splendor, all was black.
Night had fallen in the woods.
In the steady rhythm of Lament's gait, Emeline heard assurances she'd been too frightened to hear before. I have you, Lament's hooves pounded out. I am steady and true. I won't let you fall.”
― Kristen Ciccarelli, Edgewood

“Our longing could only resolve in Jesus. His death, resurrection, and return are the only true anchor for aching hearts.”
― Clint Watkins, Just Be Honest: How to Worship through Tears and Pray without Pretending