Drop, drop, slow tears, / And bathe those beauteous feet, / Which brought from Heaven / The news and Prince of Peace.

Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan, Sorrow calls no time that's gone: Violets plucked the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again.

I was in tears all night. I know Jeff's in heaven looking down and he's smiling.

It's good news. I got it through on the phone this morning by text.

If eyes are windows to the soul, then tears are heavens rain.

This is my idea of heaven, coming home and watching the news.