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The dew of compassion is a tear.

Tears fall in my heart like the rain on the town.

Tears of joy are like the summer rain drops pierced by sunbeams.

Tears may be dried up, but the heart - never.

Tears are the summer showers to the soul.

Tears come from the heart and not from the brain.

The tender heart, the broken and contrite spirit, are to me far above all the joys that I could ever hope for in this vale of tears.

While therefore your tears flow, let a due proportion be tears of joy. Yet take the bitter cup with both hands and sit down to your repast. You will soon learn a secret: that there is sweetness at the bottom.

I do not weep: I loathe tears, for they are a sign of slavery.

For women's tears are but the sweat of eyes.