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1 " He was persuaded he could know no happiness but in the society of one with whom he could for ever indulge the melancholy that had taken possession of his soul. "
― Horace Walpole , The Castle of Otranto
2 " The Sad Boy Ay, his old mother was a glad one.And his poor old father was a mad one.The two begot this sad one.Alas for the single shoeThe Sad Boy pulled out of the rank green pond,Fishing for fairiesOn the prankish adviceOf two disagreeable lovers of small boys.Pity the unfortunate Sad BoyWith a single magic shoeAnd a pair of feetAnd an extra footWith no shoe for it.This was how the terrible hopping beganThat wore the Sad Boy thin and throughTo his only shoeAnd started the great fright in the provinces above BrentWhere the Sad Boy became half of himselfTo match the beautiful bootHe had dripped from the green pond.Wherever he went weeping and hoppingAnd stamping and sobbing,Pounding a whole earth into a half-heaven,Things split where he stoodInto the left side for the left magic,Into no side for the missing right boot.Mercy be to the Sad BoyScamping exasperatedAfter a wide bootTo double the magicOf a limping foot.Mercy to the melancholy folkOn the Sad Boy's right.It was not for want of wanderingHe lost the left boot tooAnd the knowledge of his left side,But because one awful SundayThis dear boy dislimbedWent back to the old pondTo fish up another shoeAnd was quickly (being too light for his line)Fished in.Gracious how he kicks nowAll the little ripples up!The quiet population of Brent has settled down,And the perfect surface of the famous pondIs slightly pocked, marked with three signs,For visitors come to fish for souvenirs,Where the Sad Boy went inAnd his glad mother and his mad father after him. "
― , The Poems of Laura Riding: A Newly Revised Edition of the 1938/1980 Collection
3 " I desire to know you. Every breath of your heart, every fleeting look on your face, the rhythm of your joys, and the melancholy of your sorrows. "
― Ella Leya , The Orphan Sky
4 " The human species – mammalian primates though undoubtedly (s)he is, and made out of the dust of exploded suns - does have the need for the transcendent, the numinous, even the ecstatic. I wouldn’t trust anyone who hadn’t had this. This has to do with landscape, light, music, love and an awareness of the transience of all things, and the melancholy that invests all this. So it isn’t just gaping happily at the sunset while listening to music, and doing that while knowing that it can’t last very long. But there is no need for the supernatural in this at all. There is no dimension of the supernatural of which this gives one a share. "
― Christopher Hitchens
5 " One of the easiest things in life is to judge others. One of the simplest things we can ever do is to tell how wrong people are. One of the most thoughtless things we can ever do is to show people their faults unconstructively. It is always so easy and common to do such things but, before you do that, find the uncommon reasons for the faulty life.Yes! before you do that, identify how to correct a faulty life and before you do that, think of what drives and invokes the joy, slothfulness or the melancholy in people. Until you go through what people have been through, until you experience what has become a part of people, until you understand what drives the real interest of people and until you become fully aware of the real vision, aspirations, desires and the needs of others, ponder before you criticize! "
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6 " Sorrow, terror, anguish, despair itself are often the chosen expressions of an approximation to the highest good. Our sympathy in tragic fiction depends on this principle; tragedy delights by affording a shadow of the pleasure which exists in pain. This is the source also of the melancholy which is inseparable from the sweetest melody. The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself. "
― Percy Bysshe Shelley , A Defence of Poetry and Other Essays
7 " The the uncertainty was dispelled and the melancholy lifted as he saw a familiar stocky figure moving near one of the tents. " Halt!" he cried out gladly, and a slight pressure with his knees set Tug galloping through the deserted Gathering site. The dog, caught by surprise, barked once, then shot in pursuit like an arrow from a bow. The grim-faced Ranger straightened from the fire at the sound of his former student's voice. He stood, hands on hips and a frown on his face as Will and Tug careered toward him. But inside, there was a lightening of his heart that he never failed to feel when in Will's company. Not for the first time, the realization hit Halt that Will was no longer a mere boy. No one wore the Silver Oakleaf if he hadn't proven himself to be worthy. Despite himself, he felt a surge of pride. "
8 " Sometimes when you write something on the page, it can seem very funny, but when you act it out - and this happens to me a lot, actually - the melancholy of the situation becomes more front and center. "