I’ve got two jobs to do. One of those jobs is to not cry. It’s not a job, but it is in its isn’tness. I could go for either a cup of coffee, or an empty cup full of sleep.

Guys always think tears are a sign of weakness. They’re a sign of FRUSTRATION. She’s only crying so she won’t cut your throat in your sleep. So make nice and be grateful.

I try to maintain a positive attitude at all times, because clients notice little things like that, and if you're frowning and crying all the time and saying "why? why?", they get worried.

Life is defined by time, appreciate the beauty of time;A time to plant, a time to harvest. A time to cry, a time to laugh.A time to be sad, a time to be happy. A time to be born, a time to die.

I'll use the blood from my spilling heart to write the words that were never able to slip out of my mouth, so you can see how much you've broken me into a perpetual state of melancholy.

I want to weep, she thought. I want to be comforted. I'm so tired of being strong. I want to be foolish and frightened for once. Just for a small while, that's all....a day.....an hour.

As my father talked, tears dripped down the side of his face like candle wax. The sight shocked me; until that moment, I had assumed men were as incapable of crying as they were of having babies.

I had a dream where I lost Cap’n among the hundreds of black and white cats and they all looked nearly identical to him. It was such a sad dream that it made me drool out of my eyes.


She felt tears slip from beneath her lashes, no matter how she tried to blink them back. Her heart was ablaze. It seemed that her entire life had led to this man, this moment of unexpressed love.

He turned to face me and his eyes widened. "Are you crying?"He sounded a little panicked, like the sight of a crying girl was scarier than anything that had happened over the past forty-eight hours.

My tears of joyhear the raindrops crying,as the rain never wants to pourdown on my cloudy dayswhen I makeour love-dreamsfor the sun to dreamonly for you....(From the poem "Only For You" By Munia Khan)

Dream dialogue: 
-Don’t cry. I, too, know what it’s like to be different.
-But I’m not different. I’m normal, I’m average, and that’s why I’m crying.

Just as I’m about to pull him closer to deepen the kiss, he breaks away. “I shouldn’t kiss you when you’ve been crying.” “Yes, you should.” “Yes, I should.

The tears are falling freely now, and I don't care if he sees them. They're tears of relief for my nephew, worry for my grandfather and my brother, and shame for my mistake. I figure I earned them.

I got out on the street and started crying the kind of hysterical tears made justifiable only by turning off one’s cell phone, putting it to the ear, and pretending to be told of a death in the family.