Quotes About Sorrow

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.

Let me tell you what happens when you cook down the syrup of loss over the open fire of sorrow: It solidifies into something else. Not grief, like you'd expect, or even regret. No, it gets thick as paste, black as ash; yet it isn't until you dip a finger in and feel that sharp taste dissolving on your tongue that you realize this is anger in its purest form, unrefined; a substance to be weighed and measured and spread.

This time I don't bother with words; the ones we need don't exist in the English language. Even the syllable grief feels like a cliff, and we've fallen.

Regardez mon enfant, voyez l'éclat de ses boucles folles et son sourire pareil à un vol de papillon. Un tel visage ne peut pas être celui de quelqu'un qui meurt à petit feu. Je ne la connais que depuis deux ans. Mais si vous preniez chaque souvenir, chaque instant, si vous les étiriez bout à bout, ça ferait une éternité.

tears had a whole different melody, didn't they, without the pain threaded through them?

doesn't matter what it is that leaves a hole inside you. It just matters that it's there.

After all, the last thing Kenosi saw, before he closed his eyes forever, was his mother coming back to him.

Please let there be a heaven for everything that is too pitiful to believe.

You are saying, I would like to but I could never forgive you or myself. I am saying, if you let me kneel before you once, I can live without forgiveness for a very long time.

My heart is sad, my eyes grow dim, Yet do I put my trust in Him, And in due time, all sorrow past, In safety home I'll come at last.

I wish I could lay down beside her and die too.

Still the dream persists, suppressed but always there, that somehow by some miraculous effort of the heart what was done could be undone. What form would such atonement take that would turn back time and bring the dead to life? None. None possible, not in the real world. And yet in my imaginings I can clearly see this cleansed new creature steaming up out of myself like a proselyte rising drenched from the baptismal river amid glad cries.

Yet even without saying, each knew what the other was thinking, and, more acutely, what the other was feeling -- this is a further effect of our shared sorrow, this empathy, this mournful telepathy.

blue as a new bruise

of her blood. Oh, I do not say these are

And I have tried to forget him, I have tried to convince myself that it was just one of those things, but it's difficult to do that when my body is standing here, eight feet deep in the earth of northern France, while my heart remains by a stream in a clearing in England where I left it weeks ago.

It occurs to me that even though Zoya and I are both still alive, my life is already over. She will be taken from me soon and there will be no reason for me to continue without her. We are one person, you see. We are GeorgyandZoya.

death was a natural phenomenon, albeit a sorrowful one for those left behind, but one that every man and woman must accept as the price we pay for life.

It's not easy losing someone," she said. "It never goes away, does it?" "The Phantom Pain, they call it," I said. "Like amputees get when they can still feel their missing limbs.

If Dr. Allenby thought she had any concept of what guilt was, then she was fooling herself. Guilt was what kept you awake in the middle of the night or, if you managed to sleep, poisoned your dreams. Guilt intruded upon any happy moment, whispering in your ear that you had no right to pleasure. Guilt followed you down streets, interrupting the most mundane moments with remembrances of days and hours when you could have done something to prevent tragedy but chose to do nothing.

Beklager så meget , sa han. Jeg er ikke helt meg selv i kveld. Saken er nemlig den at jeg er død i dette øyeblikk.

Jesus has given me rest by means of His sorrow and life by means of His death!

His heart was full of sorrow every step of the way. Sometimes he sighed, sometimes he wept, and he often chided himself for being so foolish as to fall asleep in that place. After all, it had been established for the purpose of modest refreshment from his weariness.

He has given me rest by his sorrow and life by his death.