The number of years you wept do not matter. The number of tears you shed do not matter, either. God can still turn your situation around. He is a great God all the time.

Cry. Forgive. Learn. Move on. Let your tears water the seeds of your future happiness.

I am the type of person that will sit in the bathroom and cry, but then walk out like nothing ever happened.

Always hold your head up high, even if on the inside you’re about to cry. Pretend that nothing is wrong at all. Close your eyes

A strong person is not the one who doesn’t cry. A strong person is one who is quiet and sheds tears for a moment and then picks up the sword and fights again.

My mother was reading the note. Soon I heard her crying. Then she was wailing. “Oh, my god! You’ve disgraced your father and myself! It’s a disgrace! Suppose the neighbors find out? What will the neighbors think?” They never spoke to their neighbors.

What, are you crying? You don’t cry, all right? You keep your chin up. Come on, keep your chin up. Crying never helped anybody do anything, okay? You have a problem, you face it like a man.

What now? What should I do? I don’t want to upset him. But If I look up, I’m afraid I’ll cry.

She couldn’t tell you. It’s hard to tell someone that you’re being bullied. I couldn’t tell my mom, either. She found out after a while,

The older ones who possessed Zodiac spirits cried like that as well. I wouldn’t see it as rudeness. Rather, I believe it is evidence of

Waaaahhh! Someone! Kyo’s picking on me!

I just… Needed to get outside of that place. I’ve been a little exhausted by it all. ‘I just wanted a little escape.’ I didn’t

If you were a tear, I would never cry in fear of losing you.

The Kyo-kun from back then is also mine alone. Unlike me, he didn’t apologize. He thanked me. Kyo-kun stayed with me until I stopped crying. Kyo-kun, be mine alone. At least until the dawn breaks.

Fenix Rise: That’s what I call a real driver.
Brian: No, that’s bullshit man.
Fenix Rise: Yeah, yeah, go cry to your mama.

A strong women is someone who is able to smile this morning like she wasn’t crying last night.

I felt like crying but nothing came out. It was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can’t feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then. But I think I have known it pretty often, too often.

I’m not saying she doesn’t look cute or it’s embarrassing or anything. It’s just…it’s like, the same feeling I get when I see an old man buy his lunch at the convenience store! The old dude may not care, but it’s like, I can’t stand seeing that! Like it breaks my heart! And I got no reason, but I break down crying! Right there in the store! That’s right! I cry as I ring him up at the register!

Howl pointed a shaky hand up toward the canopy of his bed. “That’s why I love spiders. ‘If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try, again.’ I keep trying,” he said with great sadness. “But I brought it on myself by making a bargain some years ago, and I know I shall never be able to love anyone properly now.”
The water running out of Howl’s eyes was definitely tears now.

I cried. For the first time in my life, it felt as if I’d been forgiven for something. I felt like I’d been saved. It was as if the breath of spring had melted this freezing clump of snow. My tears wouldn’t stop. The next two months or so went by like a joyous dream.

Love: All my life I’ve heard of it, read about it, dreamed about it and cried about it. Now I’m sitting next to you, and I have found it.

Good morning, cry no more, the day of your glory and favor is here, may the LORD bless your heart now and forever.

It was not enough to be the last guy she kissed. I wanted to be the last one she loved. And I knew I wasn’t. I knew it, and I hated her for it. I hated her for not caring about me. I hated her for leaving that night, and I hated myself, too, not only because I let her go but because if I had been enough for her, she wouldn’t have even wanted to leave. She would have just lain with me and talked and cried, and I would have listened and kissed at her tears as they pooled in her eyes.

Pudge: Why are all these people crying? She’s not dead. She does pranks. This is a prank. She’s really good at pranks.
The Eagle: Miles, Miles, I saw her. I’m sorry.

There are so many things I can never get back. So much pain. So many tears. So, so much. I’ve had things stolen from me. I’ve been hurt. It feels so unbelievably unfair. I can never, ever forgive her. But even so… I’m tired of always looking down and missing what’s important.

How could the girl who told that joke three hours before become a sobbing mess?

I raised my arm as she collapsed into my skinny chest and cried. I felt bad for her, but she’d done it to herself. She didn’t have to rat.

The Eagle looked at me. He was crying, noiselessly. Tears just rolled from his eyes to his chin and then fell onto his corduroy pants. He stared at me, but it was not the Look of Doom. His eyes blinking the tears down his face, the Eagle looked, for all the world, sorry.

I’d never been born again with the baptism and weeping and all that, but it couldn’t feel much better than being born again as a guy with no known past. I thought of the people I’d read about — John F. Kennedy, James Joyce, Humphrey Bogart — who went to boarding school, and their adventures — Kennedy, for example, loved pranks. I thought of the Great Perhaps and the things that might happen and the people I might meet and who my roommate might be.

It was the central moment of Alaska’s life. When she cried and told me that she fucked everything up, I knew what she meant now. And when she said she failed everyone, I know whom she meant. It was the everything and the everyone of her life.

I thought the way he treated you was just awful. I wanted to cry. I just wanted to kiss you and make it better.

And besides, I like to cry. After I cry hard it’s like it’s morning again and I’m starting the day over.

You are strong if you can feel sorry for yourself. You are strong if you can laugh in the face of your own mortality. You are strong if you can cry for help when someone needs it most. You are strong if you can do all these things without letting them destroy your spirit or make you feel less than human.

We must relearn how to cry. A strong man cries; it is the weak man who holds back his tears.

I think men who can cry are strong men.

But please don’t cry, dry your eyes, never let up,
Forgive but don’t forget, girl keep your head up.

Leave me alone…! This is why I didn’t want to be near her. She’s the kind of girl who makes me feel this way. That time too…I wanted to break down and cry. I wanted to run over to her, put my head on her lap, and trust her with my heart, like a child who goes crying home to her mother. I want to complain to her about how unfair this all is, about how weak I am. And I have a feeling she would let me. I think she would accept me. But I can’t do that to her. She doesn’t deserve that. People like me cling to kind people. We seek them out. We leech them dry. That’s why I won’t involve anyone else in this. It’s better if I go it alone. I’ll keep running alone. Nobody has to understand me. It’s easier if they hate me. It’s better if I’m all alone. That’s what I decided, and I intend to stick with it. I decided I wouldn’t cry…

Let’s try our best? I hope that someday the many, many tears that were shed will be worth it.

Too pissed off to cry, I said, ‘This is only making me hate her. I don’t want to hate her. And what’s the point, if that’s all it’s making me do?’ Still refusing to answer how and why questions. Still insisting on an aura of mystery.
I leaned forward, head between by knees, and the Colonel placed a head on my upper back. ‘The point is that there are always alsweres, Pudge.’ And then he pushed air out between his pursed lips and I could hear the angry quiver in his voice as he repeated, ‘There are always answers. We just have to be smart enough.’

My body weeps to live
when you make me believe
that someday I will be dead
soul sleepless in graveyard’s bed.

Tearing up between what you deserve and what you settle for is a perpetual cause of unsettling pain.

Don’t tell me a lie to save me tears, just be real with me.

Sometimes, if things are not going so well, I don’t cry. I say maybe it’s meant to be.

Englishmen rarely cry, except under the pressure of the acutest grief; whereas in some parts of the Continent the men shed tears much more readily and freely.