Once in a while, groundless melancholy would darken my…

“The wind I hear it sighing, with autumn's saddest sound; withered leaves all thick are lying, as spring-flowers on the ground. This dark night…

— Emily Brontë

“Let’s call my mood melancholy; let’s call it remembrance. Or maybe let’s call it longing. Yes, let’s call it longing instead.”

— Shannon Celebi

More than anything, the journal wanted. It wanted more than it could hold, more than words could describe, more than diagrams could illustrate. Longing…

— Maggie Stiefvater

“what the melancholy among us sometimes know, though may not be able to articulate, is that coming to the end of our resources may…

— Sharon McMahon Moffitt

“During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the…

— Edgar Allan Poe

“He presses two fingers against each eye and attempts to account for this crippling melancholy, but is having trouble with rational thought. It feels…

— David Nicholls

“This night is not calm; the equinox still struggles in its storms. The wild rains of the day are abated; the great single cloud…

— Charlotte Brontë

For me, the melancholy of the late XXth Century is walking late at night by the Mont Blanc pen store and seeing these things…

— William Gibson

There was only the broad square with the scattered dim moons of the street lamps and with the monumental stone arch which receded into…

— Erich Maria Remarque

In such a diversity it was impossible I should be disposed to melancholy.

— Daniel Boone

“Nothing you did made sense and nothing you’ll ever do.”

— Michael Hogan

“They laughed, but I was melancholy. The remnants of Rome always make me sad, simply because they are proof that we slide inexorably towards…

— Bernard Cornwell

You felt a deep sorrow, the kind of melancholy you feel when you're in a beautiful place and the sun is going down

— Thrity Umrigar

“Wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which one fills up faster.”

— Noelle Oxenhandler

“As ofttimes as it rains on my little spot of earth, you'd think I'd grow accustomed to the gloom.”

— Richelle E. Goodrich