Quotes About Grief

Great griefs are antidotes / for lesser sorrows

Life comes in phases, sometimes you are artistic, sometimes not, sometimes you are at your peak and sometimes you are in the depths of a valley of grief and sorrow. Phases pass, trust in this and you will live a life of serenity.

I am Goyaof the bare field, by the enemy's beak gougedtill the craters of my eyes gapeI am griefI am the tongueof war, the embers of citieson the snows of the year 1941I am hunger

One is perhaps too inclined to think only of him alive at some future time when we shall meet him again; but it is really so much more helpful to think of him as just separated from us for the present.

Some live for love more than others. And he experienced a death that night.

The day after my mom died I fly back to California and spend the three weeks before the California primary making arrangements for her cremation, planning and getting the house ready for a memorial service and covering political rallies in Southern California. The normalcy of work helps.

I've had my heart broken, and it's the hardest thing. Everyone says, 'Give it time, you'll feel better in the morning.' But you don't. You feel like it's never, ever going to heal - especially during the first few weeks.

We experienced a miscarriage at 13 weeks and then a few years later we lost our son Willem at 30 weeks. I held him in my arms and had to organise his funeral.

In 2001, my father finally succumbed to the bone cancer that had tortured him for seven years. His last weeks were a terrible, black icing on the cake, the agony, the slow twisting, thinning and snapping of his skeleton. Everything fell apart.

Jackie Kennedy was magnificent in the days and weeks immediately following her husband's assassination. She was especially wonderful to me.

I don't deal with death very well. My brother, John Candy, my dad, my mom, Brandon Tartikoff just a couple of weeks ago. I mean, you lose a lot of people in your life, and that's one thing I am constantly working on - pain management.

I lost twins at 14 weeks, and I had to have an D and C on my birthday.

I lost my parents very early in my life. My mom died three weeks after I graduated from high school, and my dad died two years after I got married.

I ended up in Hampstead for two weeks after the Tour, visiting a hospital every day before my granddad died. But he was more than my granddad. He was like my father.

And weep the more, because I weep in vain.

An elephant funeral makes me weep every time, and so does an ad with a kid leaving home for college.

I had a sort of classic moment when a friend of mine rang up and said she'd just been to a funeral, and in the middle of the eulogy, this kid had taken out the phone and had a whole proper text conversation - while everyone was weeping!

My sister was a twin, and the other baby died in childbirth, and I was three at the time, and I always kind of thought it haunted me. It was a weird thing. My dad was an ob-gyn, and so it was confusing that the other baby didn't come home from the hospital.

Not to be weird, but I still have an ongoing relationship with my mom, even though she passed away, and I've been surprised at how much I've been able to convey to her. Now I sound like a total weirdo, but that's true.

We have a song, 'Welcome to the Family' - we realized for the first time in our lives that people go through this every day around the world. There is someone very close to them that they're losing, every day. That song is, 'We know how you're feeling.'

I'm terribly sad about Farrah's passing. She was incredibly brave, and God will be welcoming her with open arms.

The first thing that we need to say is that God is grieving, too. Uh, a lot of people try to make it sound like 'well everything that happens is God's will.' That's nonsense. God allows everything, but God does not choose everything.

But there is a discomfort that surrounds grief. It makes even the most well-intentioned people unsure of what to say. And so many of the freshly bereaved end up feeling even more alone.

I'll never forget coming home after covering Sandy Hook. Seeing the faces of family members. The firefighters who could never unsee the unthinkable. Those tiny caskets. I came home, sat in my dark apartment because I didn't even bother to turn the lights on, and wept.