Word of tongue or pen

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Из всех слов, когда-либо сказанных или написанных, самые грустные: «Это могло бы осуществиться»

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Из всех слов, когда-либо сказанных или написанных, самые грустные: «Это могло бы осуществиться»

Джон Гринлиф Уиттьер

Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, ‘It might have been’.

John Greenleaf Whittier

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John Greenleaf Whittier > Quotes > Quotable Quote


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John Greenleaf Whittier

“Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, ‘It might have been.”



John Greenleaf Whittier,


Maud Muller — Pamphlet

tags:
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words

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Maud Muller - Pamphlet
Maud Muller — Pamphlet
by
John Greenleaf Whittier
41 ratings,

average rating, 4 reviews

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med_cat 🙂awake

March 27 2010, 09:35

File:Maud-Muller-Brown.jpeg
Source: commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Maud-Muller-Brown.jpeg

MAUD MULLER

by: John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892)

      AUD MULLER, on a summer’s day,
      Raked the meadows sweet with hay.
       
      Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth
      Of simple beauty and rustic health.
       
      Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee
      The mock-bird echoed from his tree.
       
      But, when she glanced to the far-off town,
      White from its hill-slope looking down,
       
      The sweet song died, and a vague unrest
      And a nameless longing filled her breast—
       
      A wish, that she hardly dared to own,
      For something better than she had known.
       
      The Judge rode slowly down the lane,
      Smoothing his horse’s chestnut mane.
       
      He drew his bridle in the shade
      Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid,
       
      And ask a draught from the spring that flowed
      Through the meadow across the road.
       
      She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up,
      And filled for him her small tin cup,
       
      And blushed as she gave it, looking down
      On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown.
       
      «Thanks!» said the Judge, «a sweeter draught
      From a fairer hand was never quaffed.»
       
      He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees,
      Of the singing birds and the humming bees;
       
      Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether
      The cloud in the west would bring foul weather.
       
      And Maud forgot her briar-torn gown,
      And her graceful ankles bare and brown;
       
      And listened, while a pleasant surprise
      Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes.
       
      At last, like one who for delay
      Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away,
       
      Maud Muller looked and sighed: «Ah, me!
      That I the Judge’s bride might be!
       
      «He would dress me up in silks so fine,
      And praise and toast me at his wine.
       
      «My father should wear a broadcloth coat;
      My brother should sail a painted boat.
       
      «I’d dress my mother so grand and gay,
      And the baby should have a new toy each day.
       
      «And I’d feed the hungry and clothe the poor,
      And all should bless me who left our door.»
       
      The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill,
      And saw Maud Muller standing still.
       
      «A form more fair, a face more sweet,
      Ne’er hath it been my lot to meet.
       
      «And her modest answer and graceful air
      Show her wise and good as she is fair.
       
      «Would she were mine, and I to-day,
      Like her, a harvester of hay:
       
      «No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs,
      Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues,
       
      «But low of cattle, and song of birds,
      And health, and quiet, and loving words.»
       
      But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold,
      And his mother, vain of her rank and gold.
       
      So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on,
      And Maud was left in the field alone.
       
      But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,
      When he hummed in court an old love-tune;
       
      And the young girl mused beside the well,
      Till the rain on the unraked clover fell.
       
      He wedded a wife of richest dower,
      Who lived for fashion, as he for power.
       
      Yet oft, in his marble hearth’s bright glow,
      He watched a picture come and go:
       
      And sweet Maud Muller’s hazel eyes
      Looked out in their innocent surprise.
       
      Oft when the wine in his glass was red,
      He longed for the wayside well instead;
       
      And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms,
      To dream of meadows and clover-blooms.
       
      And the proud man sighed, with a secret pain,
      «Ah, that I were free again!
       
      «Free as when I rode that day,
      Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay.»
       
      She wedded a man unlearned and poor,
      And many children played round her door.
       
      But care and sorrow, and child-birth pain,
      Left their traces on heart and brain.
       
      And oft, when the summer sun shone hot
      On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot,
       
      And she heard the little spring brook fall
      Over the roadside, through the wall,
       
      In the shade of the apple-tree again
      She saw a rider draw his rein,
       
      And, gazing down with timid grace,
      She felt his pleased eyes read her face.
       
      Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls
      Stretched away into stately halls;
       
      The weary wheel to a spinnet turned,
      The tallow candle an astral burned;
       
      And for him who sat by the chimney lug,
      Dozing and grumbling o’er pipe and mug,
       
      A manly form at her side she saw,
      And joy was duty and love was law.
       
      Then she took up her burden of life again,
      Saying only, «It might have been.»
       
      Alas for maiden, alas for Judge,
      For rich repiner and household drudge!
       
      God pity them both! and pity us all,
      Who vainly the dreams of youth recall;
       
      For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
      The saddest are these: «It might have been!»
       
      Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies
      Deeply buried from human eyes;
       
      And, in the hereafter, angels may
      Roll the stone from its grave away!

      **
      Source: www.poetry-archive.com/w/maud_muller.html

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The windows of my soul I throw
Wide open to the sun.

John Greenleaf Whittier (17 December 1807 – 7 September 1892) was an American Quaker poet and abolitionist.

Quotes[edit]

Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,
But spare your country’s flag…
Where pity dwells, the peace of God is there.
When faith is lost, when honor dies
The man is dead!
Their right(colored Americans), like that of their white fellow-citizens, dates back to the dread arbitrament of war. Their bones whiten every stricken field of the Revolution; their feet tracked with blood the snows of Jersey; their toil built up every fortification south of the Potomac; they shared the famine and nakedness of Valley Forge, and the pestilential horrors of the old Jersey prison ship.
  • Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,
    But spare your country’s flag,» she said.
    • Barbara Frietchie (1863); reported in Diane Ravitch, The American Reader: words that moved a nation (2000), p. 259. The lines are based on an folkloric account of the real Barbara Fritchie, said to have made a similar challenge to Confederate invaders of Maryland during the American Civil War.
  • The windows of my soul I throw
    Wide open to the sun.
    • My Psalm, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • What is good looking, as Horace Smith remarks, but looking good? Be good, be womanly, be gentle,—generous in your sympathies, heedful of the well-being of all around you; and, my word for it, you will not lack kind words of admiration.
    • The Beautiful, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • O, brother man! fold to thy heart thy brother;
    where pity dwells, the peace of God is there.
    • Worship, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • Press bravely onward! — not in vain
    Your generous trust in human kind;
    The good which bloodshed could not gain
    Your peaceful zeal shall find.
    • To the Reformers of England, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn
    Which once he wore;
    The glory from his gray hairs gone
    For evermore!
    • Ichabod, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • When faith is lost, when honor dies
    The man is dead!
    • Ichabod, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • Making their lives a prayer.
    • To A. K. On receiving a Basket of Sea-Mosses, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time,
    So «Bonnie Doon» but tarry;
    Blot out the epic’s stately rhyme,
    But spare his «Highland Mary!»
    • Line on Burns, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • Perish with him the folly that seeks through evil good.
    • Brown of Ossawatomie, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • The hope of all who suffer,
    The dread of all who wrong.
    • The Mantle of St. John de Matha, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • I know not where His islands lift
    Their fronded palms in air;
    I only know I cannot drift
    Beyond His love and care.
    • The eternal Goodness, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • Again the shadow moveth o’er
    The dial-plate of time.
    • The New Year, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • Yet sometimes glimpses on my sight,
    Through present wrong the eternal right;
    And, step by step, since time began,
    I see the steady gain of man;
    • The Chapel of the Hermits, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • We lack but open eye and ear
    To find the Orient’s marvels here;
    The still small voice in autumn’s hush,
    Yon maple wood the burning bush.
    • The Chapel of the Hermits; comparable to Mrs. Browning, Aurora Leigh, Book vii
  • Better heresy of doctrine than heresy of heart.
    • Mary Garvin, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • Tradition wears a snowy beard, romance is always young.
    • Mary Garvin, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • The Night is Mother of the Day,
    The Winter of the Spring,
    And ever upon old Decay
    The greenest mosses cling.
    • A Dream of Summer, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • Beauty seen is never lost.
    • Sunset on the Bearcamp, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • God blesses still the generous thought,
    And still the fitting word He speeds,
    And Truth, at His requiring taught,
    He quickens into deeds.
    • Channing, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • Each crisis brings its word and deed.
    • The lost Occasion, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • The Beauty which old Greece or Rome
    Sung, painted, wrought, lies close at home.
    • To ———, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • We seemed to see our flag unfurled,
    Our champion waiting in his place
    For the last battle of the world,
    The Armageddon of the race.
    • Rantoul, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • Nature speaks in symbols and in signs.
    • To Charles Sumner, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • Who never wins can rarely lose,
    Who never climbs as rarely falls.
    • To James T. Fields, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • To eat the lotus of the Nile
    And drink the poppies of Cathay.
    • The Tent on the Beach, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • The harp at Nature’s advent strung
    Has never ceased to play;
    The song the stars of morning sung
    Has never died away.
    • The Worship of Nature, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • Falsehoods which we spurn to-day
    Were the truths of long ago.
    • Calef in Boston, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • Low stir of leaves and dip of oars
    And lapsing waves on quiet shores.
    • Snow Bound, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • All hearts confess the saints elect,
    Who, twain in faith, in love agree,
    And melt not in an acid sect
    The Christian pearl of charity!
    • Snow Bound, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • Life is ever lord of Death
    And Love can never lose its own.
    • Snow Bound, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • Let the thick curtain fall;
    I better know than all
    How little I have gained,
    How vast the unattained.
    • My Triumph, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • Sweeter than any sung
    My songs that found no tongue
    ;
    Nobler than any fact
    My wish that failed of act.

    Others shall sing the song,
    Others shall right the wrong,—
    Finish what I begin,
    And all I fail of win.

    • My Triumph, reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
  • God is and all is well.
    • My Birthday», reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). Compare Browning, Pippa Passes.
  • Their right(colored Americans), like that of their white fellow-citizens, dates back to the dread arbitrament of war. Their bones whiten every stricken field of the Revolution; their feet tracked with blood the snows of Jersey; their toil built up every fortification south of the Potomac; they shared the famine and nakedness of Valley Forge, and the pestilential horrors of the old Jersey prison ship.
    • Quoted in The Colored Patriots of the American Revolution, by William Cooper Nell, p. 339. (1855)
  • The laws of changeless justice bind
    Oppressor with oppressed
    And close as sin and suffering joined
    We march to fate abreast.
    • «At Port Royal»

Maud Muller (1856)[edit]

The best of a book is not the thought which it contains, but the thought which it suggests; just as the charm of music dwells not in the tones but in the echoes of our hearts.
  • Maud Muller, on a summer’s day,
    Raked the meadows sweet with hay.
    Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth
    Of simple beauty and rustic health.
  • So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on,
    And Maud was left in the field alone.
    But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,
    When he hummed in court an old love-tune.
  • He wedded a wife of richest dower,
    Who lived for fashion, as he for power.
    Yet oft, in his marble hearth’s bright glow,
    He watched a picture come and go:
    And sweet Maud Muller’s hazel eyes
    Looked out in their innocent surprise.
  • A manly form at her side she saw,
    And joy was duty and love was law.
    Then she took up her burden of life again,
    Saying only, «It might have been».
  • Weary lawyers with endless tongues.
  • Alas for maiden, alas for Judge,
    For rich repiner and household drudge!
    God pity them both! and pity us all,
    Who vainly the dreams of youth recall;
    For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
    The saddest are these: «It might have been!»
    • Bret Harte wrote a famous parody of this famous poem, «Mrs. Judge Jenkins» in which the Judge marries Maud, and which he ends with the lines:
      Maud soon thought the Judge a bore,
      With all his learning and all his lore;
      And the Judge would have bartered Maud’s fair face
      For more refinement and social grace.
      If, of all words of tongue and pen,
      The saddest are, «It might have been,»
      More sad are these we daily see:
      «It is, but hadn’t ought to be».

Dictionary of Burning Words of Brilliant Writers (1895)[edit]

Quotes reported in Josiah Hotchkiss Gilbert, Dictionary of Burning Words of Brilliant Writers (1895)
  • God’s ways seem dark, but, soon or late,
    They touch the shining hills of day;
    The evil cannot brook delay,
    The good can well afford to wait.
    • P. 282
  • As yonder tower outstretches to the earth
    The dark triangle of its shade alone
    When the clear day is shining on its top;
    So, darkness in the pathway of man’s life
    Is but the shadow of God’s providence,
    By the great Sun of wisdom cast thereon;
    And what is dark below is light in heaven.
    • P. 282
  • For they the mind of Christ discern
    Who lean, like John, upon His breast.
    • P. 399
  • Strike! Thou the Master, we Thy keys,
    The anthem of the destinies!
    The minor of Thy loftier strain,
    Our hearts shall breathe the old refrain —
    «Thy will be done!»
    • P. 513

Attributed[edit]

  • Somehow not only for Christmas
    But all the long year through,
    The joy that you give to others
    Is the joy that comes back to you.

    And the more you spend in blessing
    The poor and lonely and sad,
    The more of your heart’s possessing
    Returns to make you glad.
    • First published in The Educational Monthly of Canada, Volume 24‎ (1901), p. 29

Quotes about John Greenleaf Whittier[edit]

  • Most of the books published during the five-year period leading up to, during, and after the invasion of Mexico were war-mongering tracts. Euro-American settlers were nearly all literate, and this was the period of the foundational «American literature,» with writers James Fenimore Cooper, Walt Whitman, Edgar Allan Poe, John Greenleaf Whittier, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, James Russell Lowell, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Herman Melville all active-each of whom remains read, revered, and studied in the twenty-first century, as national and nationalist writers, not as colonialists. Although some of the writers, like Melville and Longfellow, paid little attention to the war, most of the others either fiercely supported it or opposed it…Opposition to the Mexican War came from writers who were active abolitionists such as Thoreau, Whittier, and Lowell. They believed the war was a plot of southern slave owners to extend slavery, punishing Mexico for having outlawed slavery when it became independent from Spain.
    • Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz, An Indigenous Peoples’ History of the United States (2014)
  • I have in my hand a poem which our own beloved poet John Greenleaf Whittier wrote almost fifty years ago, in the darkest hour of the midnight which brooded over our country. You are most of you, perhaps all, familiar with it. It is addressed to Mr. Garrison. Shall I read a single stanza? I do it to illustrate a point strongly put by our brother who has just taken his seat; that is, the power of a single soul, alone, of a single soul touched with sacred fire, a soul all of whose powers are enlisted the thought, the feeling, the susceptibility, the emotion, the indomitable will, the conscience that never shrinks, and always points to duty-I say, the power which God has lodged in the human mind, enabling to do and to dare and to suffer everything, and thank God for the privilege of doing it. To show also how, when one soul is thus stirred in its innermost and to its uttermost, it is irresistible; that wherever there are souls, here and there, and thick and fast, too, not merely one, and another, and another, of the great mass, but multitudes of souls are ready to receive the truth and welcome it, to incorporate it into their thought and feeling, to live and die for it. That was the effect of Garrison upon the soul of Whittier. He here gives us his testimony. The date of this is 1833-almost fifty years ago. He says in the third stanza: «I love thee with a brother’s love,/I feel my pulses thrill/To mark thy spirit soar above/The cloud of human ill./My heart hath leaped to answer thine,/And echo back thy words,/As leaps the warrior’s at the shine/And flash of kindred swords!»
    • Theodore Dwight Weld, eulogy for William Lloyd Garrison (1879)
  • The belief has been constantly expressed in England that in the United States, which has produced William Lloyd Garrison, Henry Ward Beecher, James Russell Lowell, John G. Whittier and Abraham Lincoln there must be those of their descendants who would take hold of the work of inaugurating an era of law and order. The colored people of this country who have been loyal to the flag believe the same, and strong in that belief have begun this crusade.
    • Ida B. Wells, The Red Record (1895)

External links[edit]

Wikipedia
Wikipedia
Wikisource
Wikisource
Commons
Commons
  • Whittier autobiography & poems
  • Whittier biography & hymns
  • Works by John Greenleaf Whittier at Project Gutenberg
  • Audio of Greenleaf’s works by Michael Maglaras
  • The Whittier Bi-centennial Recording Project, featuring the poem «Snow-Bound» read by Michael Maglaras
  • John Greenleaf Whittier letters. Available online through Lehigh University’s I Remain: A Digital Archive of Letters, Manuscripts, and Ephemera
  • Whittier Family Homestead and Birthplace of John Greenleaf Whittier
  • John Greenleaf Whittier Home, Amesbury, Massachusetts

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For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, “It might have been.” – John Greenleaf Whittier

Does it matter what you were thinking of saying? Learn from your hesitation.

Does it matter what you were thinking of saying? Learn from your hesitation. Next time, take action. No regrets.

What does that mean?
This quote is about regret and sadness. It is about what might have been, if only action had been taken. It comes from the poem “Maud Muller,” which is about a young and beautiful girl who meets a wealthy judge from the local town. Both are attracted to the other, but neither says anything. They each go on with their lives, wondering what might have been.

A longer section of the poem ends like this (lines 101-106) :

Alas for maiden, alas for Judge,
For rich repiner and household drudge!
God pity them both! and pity us all,
Who vainly the dreams of youth recall;
For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: “It might have been!”

This is, unfortunately, something that nearly all of us will have in common, if not already, eventually. How many times has someone you wanted to meet slipped away while you were busy trying to find the best words to use when introducing yourself?

And that’s just the topic of the quote. What other areas in your life have the words “it might have been” hanging over the memory of something you did or failed to do? Yes there is a price to pay for trying and failing. But I believe the price of not trying is often much higher.

Why is living without regret important?  
How much of your life do you want to dedicate to the reliving of unpleasant memories? How much time do you want to invest in things you cannot change? How much emotional pain are you willing to put yourself through in order to relive these past situations and second guess yourself?

Personally, I try to spend enough time reviewing the situation to learn something from it, and then I try to put in a box labeled “lessons learned.” I may go back to it if I come across a similar situation later in life, but I try not to rummage through the box. Ever. That’s a massive time sink and emotional drain.

How much nicer would life be if you could set your past regrets aside, and move forward with your life, taking action when opportunities come your way? That’s what I try to do, and (after a few years of practice) have become fairly good at it. I believe it’s worth a try, wouldn’t you agree?

Where can I apply this in my life?
From my experience, there seem to be two major components to living with few regrets (I can’t imagine living with absolutely none, can you?). The first step is to take prompt action. The second is to accept the outcome of your action (or inaction) and move on with your life.

The first, to me, is key. If you don’t take prompt action, the opportunity often slips away. And the crucial part of being ready to take action is to be prepared. Preparation and confidence can also be bolstered by practice and by learning from your mistakes.

Where in your life do you most often have regrets of not having taken action? Be careful about 20/20 hindsight. Don’t say something about playing lottery numbers or stocks based on knowledge you couldn’t possibly have had in advance. But do you have regrets frequently when you meet people? That’s my biggest source of regret.

What about your agonizing afterwards? Do you berate yourself or are you full of self-recrimination? What is your attitude towards yourself? Do you say “I should learn something from that,” or do you call yourself names, list all your faults and otherwise run yourself down?

In the long run, which path leads you forward, and which leaves you so afraid that you freeze up when an opportunity presents itself? If you’re like me or most people I know, the latter is the more frequent response. But that’s not the best way to move forward, is it? Forgive yourself and move on.

So how do we focus more on what we can learn, rather than calling ourselves names? The first thing I try to do is to take the emotion down a notch or two. I find that my periods of pity and self-flagellation tend to be when I am most emotional. Once I tone that down, I can be a little more reasonable.

And that’s when I can start being logical and analytical about what happened or failed to happen. I ask myself “At what point did I mess up?” How could I have pulled things together and better prepared myself for the opportunity? What should I have said, what should I have done?

The point isn’t to beat myself up for being such a dunce, but to learn something from the experience. That way, it isn’t a failure, it isn’t a complete loss or a complete waste of time. It isn’t as good a teacher as actually having tried something, but at least I’m a step closer next time, right?

So, what will you do the next time opportunity knocks? Will you freeze and wonder what might have been, or will you take a shot? Even if you mangle it badly, it’s better than nothing, right? You’ve got a real data point, not just a guess.

You’ll learn more from a failure than from guessing what might have been.

From: Twitter, @QuotableQuips
confirmed at : http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/j/johngreenl385048.html
Photo by DeCyner

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Translation

Find a translation for this quote in other languages:

de todas las palabras tristes de lengua o pluma, las más tristes son estas ‘podría haber sido’

car de tous les mots tristes de langue ou de plume, les plus tristes sont ceux-ci «cela aurait pu être»

जीभ या कलम के सभी दुखद शब्दों के लिए, सबसे दुखद ये हैं ‘यह रहा होगा’

כי מכל המילים העצובות של הלשון או העט, העצובות ביותר הן «זה היה יכול להיות»

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