Sorry to bother you,” Bella said over the wailing. “But she wants her daddy.

I felt if I went chronologically, I’d get bogged down in childhood and that’s part of our culture of complaint in America. This endless wailing about your childhood.

‘Spectrum‘ is in part a disco song. But we play it hard, and it’s a real euphoric, wailing tune. It’s kind of like a total house anthem, in a way, but it seems to be going down really well. We’ve got all the grunge kids going mad for disco house raves.

None can cure their harms by wailing them.

Yes, this is life; and everywhere we meet,
Not victor crowns, but wailings of defeat.

Whenever the pressure of our complex city life thins my blood and numbs my brain, I seek relief in the trail; and when I hear the coyote wailing to the yellow dawn, my cares fall from me – I am happy.

Do one of three things. One, go find a wailing wall and feel sorry for yourselves. Two, go psycho and start bombing – but this will only swing people to the right. Three, learn a lesson. Go home, organize, build power and at the next convention, you be the delegates.

Walter turned on the radio: electric violins wailing, twisted romance, the four-square beat of heartbreak. Trite suffering, but suffering nonetheless. The entertainment business. What voyeurs we have all become.

Surfing?” he asked. She laughed, and the sound sent a shock wave through the water. The wailing faded to background noise. Annabeth wondered if anyone had ever laughed in Tartarus before—just a pure, simple laugh of pleasure. She doubted it.

Percy: I thought I’d lost my mom forever, and I was stuck on a hill in a thunderstorm fighting this huge bull dude while Grover was passed out wailing. “Food!” It was terrifying, man.

Her mind lives tidily, apart from cold and noise and pain. And bolts the door against her heart, out wailing in the rain.

Hungry wailing standeth not aloof.

The wailing of the newborn infant is mingled with the dirge for the dead.

These tears I’m wailing, I spill not without reason. Remove them, my dearest love. Take me to the place I’ve been dreaming of, where the grotesquely lonely meet the grotesquely lonely and they whisper, just very softly, Please be mine, Dearest Love.

After a while, though the grief did not go away from us, it grew quiet. What had seemed a storm wailing through the entire darkness seemed to come in at last and lie down.

So I’m at the wailing wall, standing there like a moron, with my harpoon.

A few melancholy birds were pipping and wailing, until the round red sun sank slowly into the western shadows; then an empty silence fell

You’ve got to learn your instrument. Then, you practice, practice, practice. And then, when you finally get up there on the bandstand, forget all that and just wail.

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.

the occasional cries of a lost loon, strayed from its flock in northern migration, fill the swamp with sounds of wailing.

Much of my crying is for joy and wonder rather than for pain. A trumpet‘s wailing, a wind‘s warm breath, the chink of a bell on an errant lamb, the smoke from a candle just spent, first light, twilight, firelight. Everyday beauty. I cry for how life intoxicates. And maybe just a little for how swiftly it runs.

Saturday night at my house, I often trot out classic movies and force the urchins to watch them. There is much wailing and gnashing of teeth, but I think it’s important to teach kids about American culture, and films are certainly a big part of it.

Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of two eternities. We strive in vain to look beyond the heights. We cry aloud

The wailing owl screams solitary to the mournful moon.

A craftsman pulled a reed from the reedbed, cut holes in it, and called it a human being. Since then, it’s been wailing a tender agony of parting, never mentioning the skill that gave it life as a flute

You know, when I’m playing, I think of myself in front of the Wailing Wall with a saxophone in my hands, and I’m davening, I’m really telling it to the Wall.

But as in wailing there’s nought availing, And Death unfailing will strike the blow, Then for that reason, and for a season, Let us be merry before we go.

Clouds of black birds rose up wailing and screaming, like the thoughts of my heart.

Wailing and lamentation befit those who stand before the throne of life and depart without leaving in its hands a drop of the sweat of their brows or the blood of their hearts.

Strictures, reproaches, and intemperate speeches from the Senator of Louisiana are really the wailings of an apostle of despair; he has lost control of himself, he is trying to play billiards with elliptical billiard balls and a spiral cue.

The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, And the Year On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, Is lying. . . .

And in all of Babylonia there was wailing and gnashing of teeth, ’til the prophets bade the multitudes get a grip on themselves and shape up.

And over the pond are sailing Two swans all white as snow; Sweet voices mysteriously wailing Pierce through me as onward they go. They sail along, and a ringing Sweet melody rises on high; And when the swans begin singing, They presently must die.