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Oh, that was a good time, when I was unhappy. - credited to Sophie Arnould,

Ah, nothing comes to us too soon but sorrow.

Night brings out stars as sorrow shows us truths.

In every adversity of fortune, to have been happy is the most unhappy kind of misfortune.

Sorrow preys upon Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it From its sad visions of the other world Than calling it at moments back to this. The busy have no time for tears.

Ah, don't be sorrowful darling, And don't be sorrowful, pray: Taking the year together, my dear, There isn't more night than day.

For of Fortune's sharpe adversite, The worste kynde of infortune is this, A man to hav bent in prosperite, And it remembren whan it passed is.

Men die, but sorrow never dies; The crowding years divide in vain, And the wide world is knit with ties Of common brotherhood in pain.

The path of sorrow, and that path alone, Leads to the lands where sorrow is unknown.

There is no greater sorrow Than to be mindful of the happy time In misery.

My sorrows are overwhelming, but my virtue is left to me.

In the bitter waves of woe, Beaten and tossed about By the sullen winds which blow From the desolate shores of doubt.

Alas! sorrow from happiness is oft evolved.

Who never ate his bread in sorrow, Who never spent the darksome hours Weeping, and watching for the morrow,-- He knows ye not, ye gloomy Powers.

Since sorrow never comes too late And happiness too swiftly flies.

I walked a mile with Pleasure, She chattered all the way; But left me none the wiser, For all she had to say. I walked a mile with Sorrow And ne'er a word said she; But, oh, the things I learned from her When Sorrow walked with me!

A happier lot were mine, If I must lose thee, to go down to earth, For I shall have no hope when thou art gone,-- Nothing but sorrow. Father have I none, And no dear mother.

Sinks my sad soul with sorrow to the grave.

The sorrowful dislike the gay, and the gay the sorrowful.

When sparrows build and the leaves break forth My old sorrow wakes and cries.