rahelab wrote on May 25th 2000, 02:54:22 about
sorrow
Rating: 10 point(s) | Read and rate text individuallySorrow can break your heart, if not physically, then certainly metaphorically.
| Amount of texts to »sorrow« | 19, and there are 19 texts (100.00%) with a rating above the adjusted level (-3) |
| Average lenght of texts | 159 Characters |
| Average Rating | 2.789 points, 0 Not rated texts |
| First text | on Apr 19th 2000, 05:17:50 wrote Lori about sorrow |
| Latest text | on Mar 12th 2007, 21:00:23 wrote Emma Example about sorrow |
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Random associativity, rated above-average positively
Texts to »Sorrow«
whatevernext96 wrote on Nov 30th 2001, 21:27:22 about
sorrow
Rating: 8 point(s) | Read and rate text individually'A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief'. Yes, but before that happened, he must surely also have been a man of some cheerfulness, even joy, and a sense of humour. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so kind, understanding and beloved of so many.
The Old Curiosity Shop by Charles Dickens wrote on May 18th 2004, 14:50:04 about
sorrow
Rating: 12 point(s) | Read and rate text individually
i.j.oog wrote on May 8th 2000, 09:10:32 about
sorrow
Rating: 2 point(s) | Read and rate text individuallyIt occurred to him that the border between defeat and victory lies in two quite different places. Not, as one would expect, in a neat wide strip, a no-mans-land somewhere between minor success and minor failure; but in two sharp, thin, unconnected lines between major defeat and minor victory, and vice versa.
Lori wrote on Apr 19th 2000, 05:17:50 about
sorrow
Rating: 4 point(s) | Read and rate text individuallyI pity the poor who weep for lack of food. I sorrow for the wretched who cling to hope when hope is lost. I grieve for those who cannot grieve for themselves. But I will not give them my soul.
fred wrote on Apr 19th 2001, 08:43:20 about
sorrow
Rating: 5 point(s) | Read and rate text individually
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
WHOSE woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost
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