Tears are nature's lotion for the eyes. The eyes see better for

“Tears are nature’s lotion for the eyes. The eyes see better for being washed by them.” — thus spoke Christian Nestell Bovee, a philosopher of the 19th century, whose words, though simple in form, carry the profound tenderness of eternal truth. In this saying lies the wisdom of both body and soul — that tears, far from being signs of weakness, are the sacred waters that cleanse our vision, purify our hearts, and renew our understanding of life. For as the rain clears the dust from the earth, so too do tears wash away the veils that cloud the human spirit.

To the ancients, tears were not shameful but holy. The Greeks believed that the gods gave man tears so that his suffering might be sanctified, and the poets called them the language of the soul when words could no longer bear its weight. When Bovee calls them “nature’s lotion for the eyes,” he speaks both literally and symbolically. Literally, tears cleanse the eye and restore its clarity. But spiritually, they cleanse the soul, allowing us to see truth once more — truth about ourselves, about others, and about the fragile beauty of existence. For it is only after the heart has broken that it truly learns to see.

Consider the story of King David, the warrior-poet of ancient Israel. He who once slew Goliath was later brought low by his own grief — mourning the loss of his child, his friend, his innocence. Yet his tears did not destroy him; they refined him. From those nights of lamentation came the Psalms, songs that still heal broken spirits thousands of years later. His vision, once clouded by pride and victory, was made clear again by tears — and through that clarity, he found wisdom, humility, and the path back to divine grace.

In every life, there comes a time when sorrow overwhelms strength. When such a moment arrives, one must not resist the tide of emotion, for tears are nature’s mercy. The one who holds them back hardens his heart; the one who lets them flow learns softness and peace. After the storm of crying, the world often appears changed — not because it has altered, but because our sight has been renewed. The trivial no longer binds us; the true becomes visible. As Bovee says, the eyes “see better for being washed by them.” We begin to discern what truly matters — love, kindness, endurance, and faith.

There is a secret power in the act of weeping, for tears are both farewell and beginning. They mark the death of illusions and the birth of understanding. The warrior who weeps learns compassion; the parent who cries learns patience; the soul that grieves learns reverence for the fleeting nature of joy. In this way, every tear shed is a kind of baptism — a washing away of blindness, restoring the purity of sight that we lost amid pride or comfort.

Even the mighty have known this truth. Alexander the Great, after conquering half the world, was seen weeping in his tent — not for defeat, but for emptiness. His tears were not weakness; they were awakening. He realized that conquest could not fill the void that only understanding could. In that moment, he saw more clearly than ever — that the greatest victories are not won on the battlefield, but within the human heart. So too must we allow our griefs to teach us what triumph never could.

So, my child, do not be ashamed of your tears. Let them come as rain to a parched field, and know that they are not a curse, but a blessing. When sorrow weighs upon you, remember Bovee’s wisdom: it is through the washing of tears that vision is restored. Cry when you must, but see more deeply when you are done. For the eyes that have known tears are the eyes that can finally perceive beauty — not the surface beauty of the world, but the quiet, enduring beauty that lives in truth, in empathy, and in the courage to feel. And when your own eyes have been washed clean by sorrow, use that clearer sight to bring gentleness and understanding to others still blinded by their pain.