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My sympathies are Left. On paper and in the soul. But not in my heart or my guts.

If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain.

Our own sorrows seem heavy enough, even when lifted by certain long-term joys. But watching others hurt is the breaker of most any heart.

In this sad world of ours, sorrow comes to all; and to the young, it comes with bitterest agony because it takes them unawares. I have had experience enough to know what I say.

I was early taught by sorrow to shed tears, and now when sudden joy lights up, or any unexpected sorrow strikes my heart, I find it difficult to repress the full and swelling tide of feeling.

For years I have been mourning and not for my dead, it is for this boy for whatever corner in my heart died when his childhood slid out of my arms.

When I die India will be found engraved on my heart.

Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish; Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.

Sorrow lies like a heartbeat behind everything I have written.

Laughter and grief join hands. Always the heart Clumps in the breast with heavy stride; The face grows lined and wrinkled like a chart, The eyes bloodshot with tears and tide. Let the wind blow, for many a man shall die.