Bewail meaning

Verb: bewail

Pronunciation:(bi’weyl)

Bewail meaning:

• Regret strongly

Synonyms: deplore, lament, bemoan

Derived forms: bewailed, bewails, bewailing
Quotations:

1. Baruch Spinoza – I have made a ceaseless effort not to ridicule, not to bewail, not to scorn human actions, but to understand them.
2. Seneca – It is more civilized to make fun of life than to bewail it.
3. C.G. Jung – It is often tragic to see how blatantly a man bungles his own life and the lives of others yet remains totally incapable of seeing how much the whole tragedy originates in himself, and how he continually feeds it and keeps it going. Not consciously, of course—for consciously he is engaged in bewailing and cursing a faithless world that recedes further and further into the distance. Rather, it is an unconscious factor which spins the illusions that veil his world. And what is being spun is a cocoon, which in the end will completely envelop him.
4. James Clavell – He remembered the pride-filled glow that had swamped Gyoko’s face and he wondered again at the bewildering gullibility of people. How baffling it was that even the most cunning and clever people would frequently see only what they wanted to see, and would rarely look beyond the thinnest of facades. Or they would ignore reality, dismissing it as the facade. And then, when their whole world fell to pieces and they were on their knees slitting their bellies or cutting their throats, or cast out into the freezing world, they would tear their topknots or rend their clothes and bewail their karma, blaming gods or kami or luck or their lords or husbands or vassals — anything or anything — but never themselves.
5. Aesop –  An ASTRONOMER used to go out at night to observe the stars. One evening, as he wandered through the suburbs with his whole attention fixed on the sky, he fell accidentally into a deep well. While he lamented and bewailed his sores and bruises, and cried loudly for help, a neighbor ran to the well, and learning what had happened said: “Hark ye, old fellow, why, in striving to pry into what is in heaven, do you not manage to see what is on earth?
6. Thomas Hardy – Women are never tired of bewailing man’s fickleness in love, but they only seem to snub his constancy.
7. Zygmunt Bauman – To understand how that astounding moral blindness was possible, it is helpful to think of the workers of an armament plant who rejoice in the ‘stay of execution’ of their factory thanks to big new orders, while at the same time honestly bewailing the massacres visited upon each other by Ethiopians and Eritreans; or to think how it is possible that the ‘fall in commodity prices’ may be universally welcomed as good news while ‘starvation of African children’ is equally universally, and sincerely, lamented.
8. F.B. Meyer – Are you unmarried? Do not bewail yourself, as if your life must be incomplete. Yours is not a higher state, as celibacy has falsely taught, but it is neither a failure nor a shame. Cease to measure yourself by human standards. Find rest in being just what your heavenly Father wills you to be. It may be that you have been kept free from the limited circle of a home, in order to pour your love on those who have no one else to love them.
9. Charles Dickens – The Spirit of your child bewails the dead, and mingles with the dead—dead hopes, dead fancies, dead imaginings of youth,’ returned the Bell, ‘but she is living. Learn from her life, a living truth. Learn from the creature dearest to your heart, how bad the bad are born. See every bud and leaf plucked one by one from off the fairest stem, and know how bare and wretched it may be. Follow her! To desperation!
10. Diana Athill – I have heard people bewailing man’s landing on the moon, as though before it was touched by an astronaut’s foot it was made of silver or mother-of-pearl, and that footprint turned it into gray dust. But the moon never was made of mother-of-pearl, and it still shines as if it were so made.

Sample sentences:

1. With the passing of time, she would slowly tire of this exercise. She would find it increasingly exhausting to conjure up, to dust off, to resuscitate once again what was long dead. There would come a day, in fact, years later, when she would no longer bewail his loss. Or not as relentlessly; not nearly. There would come a day when the details of his face would begin to slip from memory’s grip, when overhearing a mother on the street call after her child by his name would no longer cut her adrift. She would not miss him as she did now, when the ache of his absence was her unremitting companion–like the phantom pain of an amputee.
2. Let no one bewail his poverty,For the universal Kingdom has been revealed.Let no one weep for his iniquities,For pardon has shown forth from the grave.Let no one fear death, for the saviour’s death has set us free.He that was held prisoner of it has annihilated it.By descending into Hell, He made Hell captive.He embittered it when it tasted of His flesh.And Isaiah, foretelling this, did cry:Hell, said he, was embittered when it encountered Thee in the lower regions.It was embittered, for it was abolished.It was embittered, for it was mocked.It was embittered, for it was slain.It was embittered, for it was overthrown.It was embittered, for it was fettered in chains.It took a body, and met God face to face.It took earth, and encountered Heaven.It took that which was seen, and fell upon the unseen.O Death, where is thy sting?O Hell, where is thy victory?
3. Only two weeks since he had left, and it was already happening. Time, blunting the edges of those sharp memories. Laila bore down mentally. What had he said? It seemed vital, suddenly, that she know. Laila closed her eyes. Concentrated.With the passing of time, she would slowly tire of this exercise. She would find it increasingly exhausting to conjure up, to dust off, to resuscitate once again what was long dead. There would come a day, in fact, years later, when Laila would no longer bewail his loss. Or not as relentlessly; not nearly. There would come a day when the details of his face would begin to slip from memory’s grip, when overhearing a mother on the street call after her child by Tariq’s name would no longer cut her adrift. She would not miss him as she did now, when the ache of his absence was her unremitting companion—like the phantom pain of an amputee.Except every once in a long while, when Laila was a grown woman, ironing a shirt or pushing her children on a swing set, something trivial, maybe the warmth of a carpet beneath her feet on a hot day or the curve of a stranger’s forehead, would set off a memory of that afternoon together. And it would come rushing back. The spontaneity of it. Their astonishing imprudence…It would flood her, steal her breath.But then it would pass. The moment would pass. Leave her feeling deflated, feeling noting but a vague restlessness.
4. A ring-whorled prow rode in the harbour, ice-clad, outbound, a craft for a prince.They stretched their beloved lord in his boat,laid out by the mast, amidships,the great ring-giver. Far fetched treasures were piled upon him, and precious gear.I have never heard before of a ship so well furbished with battle tackle, bladed weapons and coats of mail. The massed treasure was loaded on top of him: it would travel far on out into the ocean’s sway.They decked his body no less bountifully with offerings than those first ones did who cast him away when he was a child and launched him alone over the waves.And they set a gold standard up high above his head and let him drift to wind and tide, bewailing him and mourning their loss. No man can tell,no wise man in hall or weathered veteran knows for certain who salvaged that load.
5. Well, and what if we give in to our troubles at every step! We would be pitiable creatures indeed to be so weak, for is not a man’s spirit given to him to rise above his misfortunes? As for our wants, they are many and unfilled, for who is so rich or compassionate as to supply them? Want is our companion from birth to death, familiar as the seasons or the earth, varying only in degree. What profit to bewail that which has always been and cannot change?
6. There is an eternal difference between regret and repentance. Regret feels bad about past sins. Repentance turns away from past sins. Regret looks to our own circumstances. Repentance looks to God. Most of us are content with regret. We just want to feel bad for awhile, have a good cry, enjoy the cathartic experience, bewail our sin, and talk about how sorry we are. But we don’t want to change. We don’t want to deal with God.
7. He was too well accustomed to suffering, and had suffered too much where he was, to bewail the prospect of change very severely.
8. Long, long ago; her thought was of that child by him begot, the son by whom the sire was murdered and the mother left to breed with her own seed, a monstrous progeny.Then she bewailed the marriage bed whereon poor wretch, she had conceived a double brood,Husband by husband, children by her child.
9. Let us accept the natural order in which we move. Let us reconcile ourselves to the mysterious rhythm of our destinies, such as they must be in this world of space and time. Let us treasure our joys but not bewail our sorrows. The glory of light cannot exist without its shadows. Life is a whole, and good and ill must be accepted together. The journey has been enjoyable and well worth making – once.
10. It was now the stormy equinoctial weather that sounds the wild dirge of autumn, and marches the winter in. I love, and always did, that grand undefinable music, threatening and bewailing, with its strange soul of liberty and desolation.
11. LUK8.40 And it came to pass, that, when Jesus was returned, the people gladly received him: for they were all waiting for him. LUK8.41 And, behold, there came a man named Jairus, and he was a ruler of the synagogue: and he fell down at Jesus’ feet, and besought him that he would come into his house: LUK8.42 For he had one only daughter, about twelve years of age, and she lay a dying. But as he went the people thronged him. LUK8.43 And a woman having an issue of blood twelve years, which had spent all her living upon physicians, neither could be healed of any, LUK8.44 Came behind him, and touched the border of his garment: and immediately her issue of blood stanched. LUK8.45 And Jesus said, Who touched me? When all denied, Peter and they that were with him said, Master, the multitude throng thee and press thee, and sayest thou, Who touched me? LUK8.46 And Jesus said, Somebody hath touched me: for I perceive that virtue is gone out of me. LUK8.47 And when the woman saw that she was not hid, she came trembling, and falling down before him, she declared unto him before all the people for what cause she had touched him, and how she was healed immediately. LUK8.48 And he said unto her, Daughter, be of good comfort: thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace. LUK8.49 While he yet spake, there cometh one from the ruler of the synagogue’s house, saying to him, Thy daughter is dead; trouble not the Master. LUK8.50 But when Jesus heard it, he answered him, saying, Fear not: believe only, and she shall be made whole. LUK8.51 And when he came into the house, he suffered no man to go in, save Peter, and James, and John, and the father and the mother of the maiden. LUK8.52 And all wept, and bewailed her: but he said, Weep not; she is not dead, but sleepeth. LUK8.53 And they laughed him to scorn, knowing that she was dead. LUK8.54 And he put them all out, and took her by the hand, and called, saying, Maid, arise. LUK8.55 And her spirit came again, and she arose straightway: and he commanded to give her meat. LUK8.56 And her parents were astonished: but he charged them that they should tell no man what was done.
12. Perhaps nothing is more common than to bewail the shortness of life, unless it is to misspend the little time we are permitted to enjoy.
13. In this strain did Sancho bewail himself, and his ass listened to him, but answered him never a word, such was the distress andanguish the poor beast found himself in. At length, after a night spent in bitter moanings and lamentations, day came, and by its light Sancho perceived that it was wholly impossible to escape out of that pit without help, and he fell to bemoaning his fate anduttering loud shouts to find out if there was anyone within hearing;but all his shouting was only crying in the wilderness, for there was not a soul anywhere in the neighbourhood to hear him, and then at last he gave himself up for dead. Dapple was lying on his back, and Sancho helped him to his feet, which he was scarcely able to keep; and then taking a piece of bread out of his alforjas which had shared their fortunes in the fall, he gave it to the ass, to whom it was not unwelcome, saying to him as if he understood him, “With bread all sorrows are less.
14. A Soul-FurlurnLet none bewail the bitterness of orphancy,Nor weep if destitute of friend or kin is he,But pity him whose soul’s bereaved by ruthless fate;Once lost-’tis hard to find again a worthy mate.Deprived of kin and friend the heart seems lone and dead Yet soon it finds another one to love instead;But if the soul does lose its mate, then it must bear The curse of yielding all its hopes to black despair.His faith is lost, he trusts no more this world of woe;Distraught and wild, he shuns mankind, and does not know To whom to trust the secrets of his troubled breast,Afraid to feel again the faith it once possessed.’Tis hard to bear the anguish of a soul forlorn,To shun all worldly joys and smiles or pleasures scorn;The lonely soul forever mourns its friend and mate,And heavy sighs bring calm to him thus doomed by fate.
15. And there followed him a great company of people, and of women, which also bewailed and lamented him. But Jesus turning unto them said, Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me…. —Luke 23:27–28 (KJV) GOOD FRIDAY: MORNING IS COMING My sister Cindy died three years ago, and I have yet to cry. I’ve cried about other tragedies, other deaths, but not about my sister. “Strange” does not begin to describe this behavior. Cindy was quadriplegic—had been for forty-five plus years. I could say she suffered (she did); I can say her death was a release (it was); I can even whip out the funeral clichés: “She was needed in heaven” (I wouldn’t know). But none of that explains my dry-eyed grieving. Late one night, my ever-patient wife said, “You know, you already mourned your sister.” I assumed Sandee wanted to start a large fight with a large insult. I hadn’t even begun to mourn. Then she added, “You mourned when she was alive. You celebrated who she had become, but you mourned the loss. You mourned that Cindy couldn’t walk. You mourned that she was in pain. It’s okay. You were a good brother. You are a good brother.” I realize this revelation was Sandee’s small gift to me. No one can tell you the right time to cry. Grief follows its own etiquette; death is rude and, lacking dignity, tramples timetables. I doubt Jesus’ gentle admonishment to the daughters of Jerusalem worked (Do you really think they stopped crying?), but now I get the point: It’s okay to mourn and it’s okay to finish mourning because morning is coming. Lord, Your death overcame sin but did not overcome sadness. Teach us how to grieve our losses as we celebrate Your victory. Amen. —Mark Collins Digging Deeper: Ps 30; Is 25:8
16. Let me confess that we two must be twain,Although our undivided loves are one:So shall those blots that do with me remain,Without thy help, by me be borne alone.In our two loves there is but one respect,Though in our lives a separable spite,Which though it alter not love’s sole effect,Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love’s delight.I may not evermore acknowledge thee,Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame,Nor thou with public kindness honour me,Unless thou take that honour from thy name: But do not so, I love thee in such sort, As thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
17. April 9 MORNING “And there followed Him a great company of people, and of women, which also bewailed and lamented Him.” — Luke 23:27 AMID the rabble rout which hounded the Redeemer to His doom, there were some gracious souls whose bitter anguish sought vent in wailing and lamentations — fit music to accompany that march of woe. When my soul can, in imagination, see the Saviour bearing His cross to Calvary, she joins the godly women and weeps with them; for, indeed, there is true cause for grief — cause lying deeper than those mourning women thought. They bewailed innocence maltreated, goodness persecuted, love bleeding, meekness about to die; but my heart has a deeper and more bitter cause to mourn. My sins were the scourges which lacerated those blessed shoulders, and crowned with thorn those bleeding brows: my sins cried “Crucify Him! crucify Him!” and laid the cross upon His gracious shoulders. His being led forth to die is sorrow enough for one eternity: but my having been His murderer, is more, infinitely more, grief than one poor fountain of tears can express. Why those women loved and wept it were not hard to guess: but they could not have had greater reasons for love and grief than my heart has. Nain’s widow saw her son restored — but I myself have been raised to newness of life. Peter’s wife’s mother was cured of the fever — but I of the greater plague of sin. Out of Magdalene seven devils were cast — but a whole legion out of me. Mary and Martha were favoured with visits — but He dwells with me. His mother bare His body — but He is formed in me the hope of glory. In nothing behind the holy women in debt, let me not be behind them in gratitude or sorrow. “Love and grief my heart dividing, With my tears His feet I’ll lave — Constant still in heart abiding, Weep for Him who died to save.
18. Besides advising us to avoid people with vices, Seneca advises us to avoid people who are simply whiny, “who are melancholy and bewail everything, who find pleasure in every opportunity for complaint.
19. John, in Revelation 18:9 prophecies that when Babylon falls, “the kings of the earth…shall bewail her, and lament for her, when they shall see the smoke of her burning,” and in 18:11, “the merchants of the earth shall weep and mourn over her; for no man buyeth their merchandise anymore.” Obviously, if the entire nation of Iraq, let alone Babylon (whether with a Holiday Inn or even a full theme park), were to fall today, the kings and the merchants of the world would not be shedding tears and mourning over the loss. Even if Iraq stabilized, it would have a long way to go. Ancient Babylon is not the Daughter of Babylon
20. Two things destroy the peace and tranquility of our lives; our bewailing past disappointments, or fearing future ones.
21. He who is the cause of his own misfortune may bewail it himself.
22. Crows bewail the dead sheep, and then eat them.
23. There is no sense in crying over spilt milk. Why bewail what is done and cannot be recalled?