When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough. If we always had smiled on the one who is gone, there would be no despair in our grief; and some sweetness would cling to our tears, reminiscent of virtues and happiness. For our recollections of veritable love — which indeed is the act of virtue containing all others — call from our eyes the same sweet, tender tears as those most beautiful hours wherein memory was born.

Happy in his sorrow is he who at the death of one dear to him can weep all his tears over the emptiness, the desolation, and the loneliness. Sorer and bitterer are the tears with which you try to atone for the past when you have failed in love toward one who is gone and to whom you can never make amends for what you have sinned.

There is nothing you can expiate any more, nothing. Now there is abundance of love in your heart, now that it is too late. Go now to the cold grave with your full heart! Does it bring you any nearer? Plant flowers and bind wreaths — does that help you?

It's a time of sorrow and sadness when we lose a loss of life.

Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.

The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.

It is often hard to bear the tears that we ourselves have caused.

Perhaps — -the GREAT LOVES — -come with — -TEARS.

When your soulmate cries your heart weeps.

When we're in love, we may resent it, but we certainly miss love once it's gone.

You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly — that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.

It is sad to love and be unloved, but sadder still to be unable to love.

One sometimes weeps over one's illusions with as much bitterness as over a death.

When someone you love dies you pay for the sin of outliving her with a thousand piercing regrets.

It's the tragedy of loving, you can't love anything more than something you miss.