It is often hard to bear the tears that we ourselves have caused.
Cruelty is fed, not weakened, by tears.
No use crying over spilt milk.
It is such a secret place, the land of tears.
Not the cry, but the flight of the wild duck, leads the flock to fly and follow.
How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping? (Much Ado About Nothing)
You can cry, ain’t no shame in it.
The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.
But what am I? An infant crying in the night, an infant crying for the light; and with no language but a cry.