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“True friends chop the onions and cry together.”
― Ljupka Cvetanova, The New Land

“Why wait to forgive and let go only after you have sufficiently wallowed in your despair? Why not forgive and let go now?”
― Kamand Kojouri

“Death gets a bad rap. People think that euthanasia is putting their pets “downâ€� when it really is lifting us up. In the first moment, when we come back to earth, we remember the comfort of the Heaven we came from and this is why we cry when we are born. When we are born in Heaven we come in laughing not crying! In birth we have the passage and then the pain. In death we have the pain and then the passage.”
― Kate McGahan, Jack McAfghan: Return from Rainbow Bridge: A Dog's Afterlife Story of Loss, Love and Renewal

“Babies cry at birth because it is the first time they experience separation from love.”
― Kamand Kojouri

“The child inside me wouldn't stop crying. Every time it loses something so important to it. A person or a thing it loves the most, I pretend like nothing happened. But I hear it sobbing helplessly inside me. And the pathetic part of all this is, It neither grows up nor dies. Every time I stand in front of a mirror, it stares at me through my eyes. With its tear-stained face and that intense eyes that rip my ribs apart and the cry of it echoes through every room of my soul.”
― Akshay Vasu

“I am sitting here, staring at the dark sky and drunk with memories. laughing like a maniac while crying an ocean. Somewhere it feels like somebody is kissing my lips passionately. While they are continuously pushing a knife, deep into my chest.”
― Akshay Vasu

“His other hand finds my cheek, and he wipes away my tears with his thumb. The chocolate scent overwhelms me as he bends over and whispers in my ear, “No, Cassie. No, no, no.â€�
I throw my arm around his neck and press his dry cheek against my wet one. I’m shaking like an epileptic, and for the first time I can feel the weight of the quilts on the top of my toes because the blinding dark sharpens your other senses.
I’m a bubbling stew of random thoughts and feelings. I’m worried my hair might smell. I want some chocolate. This guy holding me—well, it’s more like I was holding him—has seen me in all my naked glory. What did he think about my body? What did I think about my body? Does God really care about promises? Do I really care about God? Are miracles something like the Red Sea parting or more like Evan Walker finding me locked in a block of ice in a wilderness of white?
“Cassie, it’s going to be okay,â€� he whispers into my ear, chocolate breath.”
― Rick Yancey, The 5th Wave

“Old soul cries through the tears of a newborn”
― Munia Khan

“If on any given day you don't cry from rejoicing in the beauty of the world, then you have not lived that day.”
― Kamand Kojouri

“...and when we die
we die alone
I cry, I cry alone
Like a piece of stone
I am thrown
into the wavy ocean of life
to atone...to atone
Only to atone...”
― Munia Khan

“The water in the pond inside my heart doesn't shine anymore. It has turned dark. Every ghost from my mind breaks all the barriers and take a dip there, making it darker. and every time it happens, my soul in the pond cries with pain.”
― Akshay Vasu

“In a corner you condense yourself and cry- in the same corner you caress and kiss. Life is this, something different each time.”
― Jasleen Kaur Gumber

“Lying there, feeling safe in his tight embrace, a tear escaped my resolute eye and darkened his purple shirt. I usually do not cry when I am afraid, but invariably did when I felt safe and cocooned, like I felt in the confines of his strong, sure arms.”
― Kavipriya Moorthy, Dirty Martini

“I cry too much to be butch." The artist deadpanned, raising an eyebrow filled with intimidation at the young woman.”
― L.J. Maas, None So Blind

“For a while she cried silently until she tired herself out and the overwhelming feeling of sleepiness overcame her. The room around her was fairly silent, although she wasn’t the only one crying herself to sleep. It was quite common at places like this to hear cries in the dark. There were so many saddened and lonesome souls around her. It was usually at night when they were reminded of just how sad and lonely they actually were.”
― Jason Medina, No Hope For The Hopeless At Kings Park

“Many people think less of a man if he cries because it supposedly shows a sign of weakness, but I beg to differ. A man that’s in touch with his feelings is absolutely beautiful! I admire, respect, and appreciate their braveness to be vulnerable. Crying is NOT a weakness. We cannot expect our men to be strong all of the time. That’s SO unfair! They have feelings, too. Don’t ever make a man feel less than just because he cries. Comfort, love, and support him. Show him that you genuinely care.”
― Stephanie Lahart

“Tears are not thorns.”
― Lailah Gifty Akita

“Do you believe in God, Evan?â€�
“Sure I do.�
“I don’t. I mean, I don’t know. I did before the Others came. Or thought I did, when I thought about it at all. And then they came and…� I have to stop for a second to collect myself. “Maybe there’s a God. Sammy thinks there is. But he also thinks there’s a Santa Claus. Still, every night I said his prayer with him, and it didn’t have anything to do with me. It was about Sammy and what he believed, and if you could have seen him take that fake soldier’s hand and follow him onto that bus…�
I’m losing it, and it doesn’t matter to me much. Crying is always easier in the dark. Suddenly my cold hand is blanketed by Evan’s warmer one, and his palm is as soft and smooth as the pillowcase beneath my cheek.
“It kills me,â€� I sob. “The way he trusted. Like the way we trusted before they came and blew the whole goddamned world apart. Trusted that when it got dark there would be light. Trusted that when you wanted a fucking strawberry Frappuccino you could plop your ass in the car, drive down the street, and get yourself a fucking strawberry Frappuccino! Trustedâ€�”
― Rick Yancey, The 5th Wave

“Don’t want no more rock,â€� Orc repeated.
The bleeding stopped almost immediately.
“Does it hurt?� Lana asked. “I mean the rock. I know the hole hurts.�
“No. It don’t hurt.� Orc slammed his fist against his opposite arm, hard enough that any human arm would have been shattered. “I barely feel it. Even Drake’s whip, when we was fighting, I barely felt it.�
Suddenly he was weeping. Tears rolled from human eyes onto cheeks of flesh and pebbles.
“I don’t feel nothing except…� He pointed a thick stone finger at the flesh of his face.
“Yeah,â€� Lana said. Her irritation was gone. Her burden was smaller, maybe, than Orc’s.”
― Michael Grant, Hunger

“Be willing to become the answer to God’s heart cry”
― Sunday Adelaja

“If your tears have lost the ability to hide your pain... why shedding them?”
― Munia Khan

“I follow the path we’ve taken so many times this summer â€� across the front, down the street, cut back through a neighbor’s yard, down the stairs to the beach, past the pier, through the campfire labyrinth, up to the deck of the Shack, and straight into Sam’s arms.
Without speaking, he kisses me hard on the mouth and I kiss him back, sobbing and crumpling into his chest like a broken puppet.”
― Sarah Ockler, Twenty Boy Summer

“Drake's whip hand spun Diana like a top.
She cried out. That sound, her cry, pierced Caine like an arrow.
Diana staggered and almost righted herself, but Drake was too quick, too ready.
His second strike yanked her through the air. She flew and then fell.
“Catch her!� Caine was yelling to himself. Seeing her arc as she fell. Seeing where she would hit. His hands came up, he could use his power, he could catch her, save her. But too slow.
Diana fell. Her head smashed against a jutting point of rock. She made a sound like a dropped pumpkin.
Caine froze.
The fuel rod, forgotten, fell from the air with a shattering crash.
It fell within ten feet of the mine shaft opening. It landed atop a boulder shaped like the prow of a ship.
It bent, cracked, rolled off the boulder, and crashed heavily in the dirt.
Drake ran straight at Caine, his whip snapping. But Jack stumbled in between them, yelling, “The uranium! The uranium!�
The radiation meter in his pocket was counting clicks so fast, it became a scream.
Drake piled into Jack, and the two of them went tumbling.
Caine stood, staring in horror at Diana. Diana did not move. Did not move. No snarky remark. No smart-ass joke.
“N´Ç!â€� Caine cried.
“N´Ç!â€�
Drake was up, disentangling himself with an angry curse from Jack.
“Diana,� Caine sobbed.
Drake didn’t rely on his whip hand now, too far away to use it before Caine could take him down. He raised his gun. The barrel shot flame and slugs, BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM.
Inaccurate, but on full automatic, Drake had time. He swung the gun to his right and the bullets swooped toward where Caine stood like he was made of stone.
Then the muzzle flash disappeared in an explosion of green-white light that turned night into day. The shaft of light missed its target. But it was close enough that the muzzle of Drake’s gun wilted and drooped and the rocks behind Drake cracked from the blast of heat.
Drake dropped the gun. And now it was Drake’s turn to stare in stark amazement. “You!�
Sam wobbled atop the rise. Quinn caught him as he staggered.
Now Caine snapped back to the present, seeing his brother, seeing the killing light.
“No,� Caine said. “No, Sam: He’s mine.�
He raised a hand, and Sam went flying backward along with Quinn.
“The fuel rod!� Jack was yelling, over and over. “It’s going to kill us all. Oh, God, we may already be dead!�
Drake rushed at Caine. His eyes were wide with fear. Knowing he wouldn’t make it. Knowing he was not fast enough.
Caine raised his hand, and the fuel rod seemed to jump off the ground.
A javelin.
A spear. He held it poised. Pointed straight at Drake.
Caine reached with his other hand, extending the telekinetic power to hold Drake immobilized.
Drake held up his human hand, a placating gesture. “Caine…you don’t want to…not over some girl. She was a witch, she was…�
Drake, unable to run, a human target. The fuel rod aimed at him like a Spartan’s spear.
Caine threw the fuel rod. Tons of steel and lead and uranium.
Straight at Drake.”
― Michael Grant, Hunger

“The intruders spoke no words as they rushed in. Five boys carrying baseball bats and tire irons. They wore an assortment of Halloween masks and stocking masks.
But Derek knew who they were.
“No! No!� he cried.
All five boys wore bulky shooter’s earmuffs. They couldn’t hear him. But more importantly, they couldn’t hear Jill.
One of the boys stayed in the doorway. He was in charge. A runty kid named Hank. The stocking pulled down over his face smashed his features into Play-Doh, but it could only be Hank.
One of the boys, fat but fast-moving and wearing an Easter Bunny mask, stepped to Derek and hit him in the stomach with his aluminum baseball bat.
Derek dropped to his knees.
Another boy grabbed Jill. He put his hand over her mouth. Someone produced a roll of duct tape.
Jill screamed. Derek tried to stand, but the blow to his stomach had winded him. He tried to stand up, but the fat boy pushed him back down.
“Don’t be stupid, Derek. We’re not after you.�
The duct tape went around and around Jill’s mouth. They worked by flashlight. Derek could see Jill’s eyes, wild with terror. Pleading silently with her big brother to save her.
When her mouth was sealed, the thugs pulled off their shooter’s earmuffs.
Hank stepped forward. “Derek, Derek, Derek,� Hank said, shaking his head slowly, regretfully. “You know better than this.�
“Leave her alone,� Derek managed to gasp, clutching his stomach, fighting the urge to vomit.
“She’s a freak,� Hank said.
“She’s my little sister. This is our home.�
“She’s a freak,� Hank said. “And this house is east of First Avenue. This is a no-freak zone.�
“Man, come on,� Derek pleaded. “She’s not hurting anyone.�
“It’s not about that,� a boy named Turk said. He had a weak leg, a limp that made it impossible not to recognize him. “Freaks with freaks, normals with normals. That’s the way it has to be.�
“All she does is—�
Hank’s slap stung. “Shut up. Traitor. A normal who stands up for a freak gets treated like a freak. Is that what you want?�
“Besides,� the fat boy said with a giggle, “we’re taking it easy on her. We were going to fix her so she could never sing again. Or talk. If you know what I mean.�
He pulled a knife from a sheath in the small of his back. “Do you, Derek? Do you understand?�
Derek’s resistance died.
“The Leader showed mercy,� Turk said. “But the Leader isn’t weak. So this freak either goes west, over the border right now. Or…� He let the threat hang there.
Jill’s tears flowed freely. She could barely breathe because her nose was running. Derek could see that by the way she sucked tape into her mouth, trying for air. She would suffocate if they didn’t let her go soon.
“Let me at least get her doll.”
― Michael Grant, Lies

“He didn’t mind Drake so much. Drake was a creep.
It was the girl who made Orc want to cry.
She was a monster. Like Orc. Begging for death. Begging for someone to let her go to her Jesus.
Kill me, kill me, kill me, she begged every day and every night.
Orc took a deep swig.
Tears seeped from his human eyes and fell into the rocky crevices of his face.”
― Michael Grant, Plague

“Mr. Albert? Mr. Albert?â€� Harley said.
“Just Albert’s fine,� Albert said tersely.
“Me and Janice are thirsty.�
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any water on me.� He managed a tight smile and moved on. But now Janice was crying and Harley was pleading.
“We used to live with Mary and she gave us water. But now we have to live with Summer and BeeBee and they said we have to have money.�
“Then I guess you’d better earn some money,� Albert said. He tried to soften it, tried not to sound harsh, but he had a lot on his mind and it came out sounding mean. Now Harley started to cry, too.
“If you’re thirsty, stop crying,â€� Albert snapped. “What do you think tears are made of?”
― Michael Grant, Plague

“I'll never let it happen. I'll do everything in my power to keep my sister at home.
"I don't want to have a civilized discussion. My parents want to send my sister to a facility behind my back and my head feels like it's about to split open. Leave me alone, okay?"
Something is sticking out of my pocket. It's Alex's bandanna. Isabel isn't a friend, yet she helped me. And Alex, a boy who cared about me last night more than my own boyfriend did, acted as my hero and is urging me to be real. Do I even know how to be real?
I clutch the bandanna to my chest.
And I allow myself to cry.”
― Simone Elkeles, Perfect Chemistry

“The degree of your cry to God to a question mark in your life is determined by the degree of how such question has consumed you”
― Sunday Adelaja

“All of life is an amphitheater where we each serve as an appreciative member of the audience until the sublime play ends with our death. The chapters and verses in our life story reflect what we value â€� how appreciative we are for our time to work, play, laugh, cry, and create.”
― Kilroy J. Oldster, Dead Toad Scrolls

“So you want we to play a game?
...

Aha, I like that...!

I FUCKING LOVE IT!”
― Deyth Banger, It's not a happy