Quotes About Sorrow

The heart of the difference between grief as we imagine it and grief as it is: the unending absence that follows, the void, the very opposite of meaning, the relentless succession of moments during which we will confront the experience of meaninglessness itself.

Grief has no distance. Grief comes in waves, paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life.

Les gens qui ont perdu quelqu'un ont un air particulier, que seuls peut-être ceux qui l'ont décelé sur leur propre visage peuvent reconnaître. Je l'ai remarqué sur mon visage et je le remarque à présent sur d'autres. C'est un air d'extrême vulnérabilité, une nudité, une béance.

Although the knowledge that their friends love them and sorrow for them is a great solace, the nearest afflicted must be protected from any one or anything which is likely to overstrain nerves already at the threatening point, and none have the right to feel hurt if they are told they can neither be of use or be received. At such a time, to some people companionship is a comfort, others shrink from their dearest friends.

People who have recently lost someone have a certain look, recognizable maybe only to those who have seen that look on their own faces. I have noticed it on my face and I notice it now on others. The look is one of extreme vulnerability, nakedness, openness.

We're relieved—and that's what makes us both feel so terrible. Can you imagine? To me, that would be the ultimate disgrace, to leave behind people who felt relief rather than sorrow at my passing. It would mean that I hadn't added value to this world. That I hadn't earned my keep as one of God's creatures. Isn't that the least we owe our Creator for all this splendor? To make a mark, to effect a change, to lighten a load, to do something to repay Him for this gift of life?

How did that blessing for newlyweds go? May your joys be multiplied and your sorrows divided.

We have travelled into the past and returned to find that our present is not quite the same as we left it. Atticus Finch will never again be the white knight we once thought him. And yet the mockingbird still sings — no longer a song of innocence, but maybe one of experience; a song that combines sorrow, forgiveness — and, ultimately, a kind of hope.

L'ho lasciata fare. Non ho detto che sarebbe andato tutto bene. Non ho fatto lo sforzo di consolarla. A volte è meglio lasciare le cose come sono, lasciare che il dolore faccia il suo corso.

She did not believe he could have really gone, because for her, to leave the person you loved was impossible.

In the English language there are orphans and widows, but there is no word for the parents who lose a child.

How could you go about choosing something that would hold the half of your heart you had to bury?

I knew that somewhere God was laughing. He had taken the other half of my heart, the one person who knew me better than I knew myself, and He had done what nothing else could do. By bringing us together, He had set into motion the one thing that could tear us apart.

That's the paradox of loss: How can something that's gone weigh us down so much?

Missed opportunities were never superficial wounds; they cut straight to the bone.

When someone dies, it feels like the hole in your gum when a tooth falls out. You can chew, you can eat, you have plenty of other teeth, but your tongue keeps going back to that empty place, where all the nerves are still a little raw.

What you had could never make up for what you'd lost.

When you lose someone you love, there is a tear in the fabric of the universe. It's the scar you feel for, the flaw you can't stop seeing. It's the tender place that won't bear weight. It's a void.

I imagined what it would be like to hold a butterfly in your hands something bejeweled and treasured and to know that despite your devotion it was dying by degrees.

His hand is cool on my cheek as he paints a tear beneath my left eye, dark blue and swollen with sorrow.

He gently touched his mother's cheek, felt her sorrow slip over his fingertips.

I have never understood why it is called losing a child. No parent is that careless. We all know exactly where our sons and daughters are; we just don't necessarily want them to be there

The love that lasts the longest is the love that can never be.

We only said goodbye with words, I died a hundred times. You go back to her and I go back to... I go back to us.