Melancholia (from Greek: µέλαινα χολή, melaina chole), also lugubriousness, from the Latin lugere, to mourn; moroseness, from the Latin morosus, self-willed, fastidious habit; wistfulness, from old English wist: intent, or saturnine, was a concept in ancient and pre-modern medicine. Melancholy was one of the four temperaments matching the four humours. In the 19th century, "melancholia" could be physical as well as mental, and melancholic conditions were classified as such by their common cause rather than by their properties.

"It's not that we have to quit this life one day, but it's how many things we have to quit all at once: music, laughter, the physics of falling leaves, automobiles, holding hands, the scent of rain, the concept of subway trains... if only one could leave this life slowly!" ― Roman Payne, Rooftop Soliloquy

"A best friend is the only one that walks into your life when the world has walked out."

"Sorrow comes in great waves...but rolls over us, and though it may almost smother us, it leaves us. And we know that if it is strong, we are stronger, inasmuch as it passes and we remain." ― Henry James

"Sorrow looks back, Worry looks around, Faith looks up" ― Ralph Waldo Emerson.

"Pure and complete sorrow is as impossible as pure and complete joy." ― Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace"

"The trouble with having an open mind, of course, is that people will insist on coming along and trying to put things in it." ― Terry Pratchett, Diggers

"Judge a man by his questions rather than by his answers." ― Voltaire

"You're going to come across people in your life who will say all the right words at all the right times. But in the end, it's always their actions you should judge them by. It's actions, not words, that matter." ― Nicholas Sparks, The Rescue

""I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it when I sorrow most; 'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all." ― Alfred Tennyson, In Memoriam

"Life is but a Weaving" (the Tapestry Poem) "My life is but a weaving Between my God and me. I cannot choose the colors He weaveth steadily. Oft' times He weaveth sorrow; And I in foolish pride Forget He sees the upper And I the underside. Not 'til the loom is silent And the shuttles cease to fly Will God unroll the canvas And reveal the reason why. The dark threads are as needful In the weaver's skillful hand As the threads of gold and silver In the pattern He has planned He knows, He loves, He cares; Nothing this truth can dim. He gives the very best to those Who leave the choice to Him." ― Corrie ten Boom

"Those who do not know how to weep with their whole heart don't know how to laugh either" ― Golda Meir"