Quotes About Grief

Every one of them had been somebody's son, somebody's friend. Grant rubbed his hands over his face and drew in a long breath, letting it out in a sigh. "Perhaps Tallis did go mad, poor bastard. I hate this more

I have seen my share of cruelty, injustice, and grief. I do not need to be treated like some flower that will bruise if you touch it.

I didn't love him at all. I grieve because he had one life in which to seek truth and find courage to defend it. He had one life in which to explore his soul, find love, compassion, humility - and he wasted it. Nobody is richer for his having been, nobody is poorer because he is gone. Therefore I grieve.

I didn't love him at all. I grieve because he had one life in which to seek truth and find courage to defend it. He had one life in which to explore his soul, find love, compassion, humility - and he wasted it. Nobody is richer for his having been, nobody is poorer because he is gone. Therefore I grieve. (from the book or manuscript, Tathyr)

To lose someone you love because they die is a sweet ache. To lose everything good you believed of them is a pain that stains all they left behind. It poisons the very air of memory. Ballinger

You are alone when something like this happens. Doesn't matter how many people love you and want to help you. You are alone. When Marchent died, she was alone.

He had grieved for me, I'll give him that much. But then he is so good at grieving! He wears woe as others wear velvet; sorrow flatters him like the light of candles; tears become him like jewels.

Dig deep, deep, my soul, to find the heart--the blood, the heat, the shrine and resting place. Dig deep, deep into the moist soil all the way to where they lie, those I love--she, Mother, with her dark hair loose and gone, her bones long since tumbled in the back of the vault, as other coffins came to rest in her spot, but in this dream I range them round me to hold as if she were there...

We live forever; but they don't come back.

But joy, the joy you've known, the love you've known, that is what matters, and we, the conscious ones, the ones who can grieve, only we can know joy.

The Romans can not be condemned for the conquest of Egypt; we were conquered by time itself in the end. And all the wonders of this brave new century should draw me from my grief and yet I can not heal my heart; and so the mind suffers; the mind closes as if it were a flower without sun

I'd loved the satin lining of the box. I'd loved the shape, and the twilight act of rising from the dead. But no more Ã¢â'¬Â¦ 

I heard the first raindrops strike the porch roof beneath her. I felt them on my face: I saw the trees begin to move in their fury. And I heard the wind, wailing as if he were wailing, lashing the trees and crying in his grief as he had on the death of my mother, and on the death of her mother. Yes, it was a storm for the death of the witch, and I was the witch. And it was my death and my storm.

But he could not go up to the room as yet, and seating himself on a stone step, his head on his arms, he wept silently. Years had passed since he had shed tears, or so it seemed. Surely years since he had let them flow so copiously. And what stopped him finally was that he could hear his own crying.

Grief, she thought. It's a strange and a misunderstood emotion.

As for his father, he saw death in the falling leaves.

and only by the coldest act of will did I avoid falling into a black pit of grief, so black that it would blind me to anything and everything.

He could not even see the images which I was seeing, so broken was his heart.

But the world was a tomb to me, a graveyard of broken statues, and each of those statues resembled her face.

To be godless is probably the first step to innocence," he said, "to lose the sense of sin and subordination, the false grief for things supposed to be lost.

To be godless is probably the first step to innocence," he said, "to lose the sense of sin and subordination, the false grief for things supposed to be lost." "So by innocence you mean not an absence of experience, but an absence of illusions.

But the time of mourning is always the perfect time for nonsense.

and when I took my fingers down, there was the stain of the tears, tinged with mortal blood. And already there was begun in me the tingling of the monster that had killed, and would kill again

I doubt now there is any power on earth that can truly reclaim what death steals.