Quotes About Grief

Mrs. George Widener was met not by automobile but by a special train—consisting of a private Pullman, another car for ballast, and a locomotive.

paroxysms of weeping.

It hurts when they're gone. And it doesn't matter if it's slow or fast, whether it's a long drawn-out disease or an unexpected accident. When they're gone the world turns upside down and you're left holding on, trying not to fall off.

No hay duelo saludable sin realismo duro y crudo.

Absence and death are the same -- only that in death there is no suffering.

On love, on grief, on every human thing, Time sprinkles Lethe's water with his wing.

When thinking about companions gone, we feel ourselves doubly alone.

Songs were the place he took his loss and turned it into something else. Which may not have been the same as grieving, but it was something.

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.

The natural effect of sorrow over the dead is to refine and elevate the mind.

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness but of power. They are messengers of overwhelming grief and unspeakable love.

The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal, every other affliction to forget; but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open, this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude.

There is a sacredness in tears....They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love.

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not a mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love.

Blue is the typical heavenly colour. The ultimate feeling it creates is one of rest. When it sinks to almost black, it echos grief that is hardly human.

No matter how much you hate or how much you suffer, you can't bring the dead back to life

Jillian cried.

I don't believe that grief passes away. It has its time and place forever. More time is added to it; it becomes a story within a story. But grief and griever alike endure.

The pain hits me in thick black waves. I scream loud enough to wake the dead... only it doesn't.

This is when we lost our humanity. I'd open my phone and look at my contacts and only one or two were still alive.

That next day, the regime launched chemical weapons. They hit very close to our house. My uncle and cousin were killed. It was like poison that burned their bodies from the inside.

Later, they returned the body of Hamza al-Khatib.* He's a cousin of mine and looks just like my son. He'd been tortured. They didn't leave any spot on his body without cigarette burns. His body was full of stab marks and his neck was broken. They'd cut off his genitals.

Many people died, including good friends. I went to the hospital to see them one last time. In one corner there was a mix of body parts from five different people. They couldn't identify them, so they buried them all together.

Another time, one of the other guys called his girlfriend and said, "Sweetheart, I'm out of minutes on my phone. I'll call you back on Amin's phone." After a while she called me asking about him, and I told her that he'd been killed.