Quotes About Grief

I see it as my job to mourn him until the day I die.

But he was not like Walter, who might take his pleasure where he chose it. His pleasure had turned, at the last, to a kind of grief; and his love was a love so fierce and so secret it must be satisfied, with a stranger, in a reeking court like this. I knew about that kind of love. I knew how it was to bare your palpitating heart, and be fearful as you did so that the beats should come too loudly, and betray you.

Kitty's gone, Flo. Like Lilian. Believe me, there's more chance of her coming back!' I began to smile. 'And if she does, you can go to her, and I won't say a word. And if Kitty comes for me, you can do similar. And then, I suppose, we shall have our paradises - and will be able to wave to one another from our separate clouds. But till then - till then, Flo, can't we go on kissing, and just be glad?

Get over it . What a funny phrase that is! As if one's grief is a fallen house, and one has to pick one's way over the rubble to the ground on the other side…

And perhaps there is a limit to the grieving that the human heart can do.

She said that that was the disadvantage of bringing creatures into the house: one grew used to them, and then, one had the upset of their loss. The

You may say that, now Dawes has gone. You didn't think our locks so hard—nor our matrons, perhaps—when they kept her neat and close, for you to gaze at!

And perhaps there is a limit to the grieving that the human heart can do. As when one adds salt to a tumbler of water, there comes a point where simply no more will be absorbed.

Being in love, you know... it's not like having a canary, in a cage. When you lose one sweetheart, you can't just go out and get another to replace her.

We can be in grief, we can itch, we can be overwhelmed, and we can choose to do something about it. We don't have to be rendered numb, asleep, despairing. I learned some time back that I could be fretting with anxiety and I could choose to live a great life.

So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. JOHN 16 : 22

That she cried over the loss of a dog whose big claim to fame was that he could eat the crotch out of a pair of clean underpants in less than a minute?

It seemed that a lot of what she was thinking about now wasn't exactly new: it had just settled at the bottom of her life like sediment while she got on with things. Now the sediment had been stirred by grief and change.

I always thought I hated the bastard, but knowing that I'm never going to get the chance to tell him how much I hated him breaks my heart.

Losing a parent is something like driving through a plate-glass window. You didn't know it was there until it shattered, and then for years to come you're picking up the pieces -- down to the last glassy splinter.

There's a woman in the bakery who smiles at me as if everyone I've ever known has just died.

It gets easier when you've met and dealt with your own grief. It gets easier, but it'll probably never be easy.

To truly know death, you'd have to have loved.

all the lies people utter around death in order to comfort themselves, to bury their grief with the body, but here, suddenly, they were true. Die, Eric said in his head. Do it now, just die. And all the while—yes, implacably, inexorably—the Greek's breathing continued its ragged course.

You cried out in your sleep last night, steel toe boots doing dances in your head. It's raining now and no one cares. Palmetto trees stand guard outside. He died last night, actually at 7:45 this morning. Will you cry? Will you?

The only way love ever affected death was in making it more painful.

All night I sat there with the body of my brother and did not sleep. I vowed that someday I would go back and kill the wild dogs in the cave. I would kill all of them. I thought of how I would do it, but mostly I thought of Ramo, my brother.

Camille died a few days later. Our daughter's hearts bear the first real cracks they have had to endure since we came into each other's lives. Our girls had a lot of laughs to give Camille in the years ahead; she had a lot of love for them. But I think that some lives are like diamonds. They pack a lot of light and brilliance into a small space.

After a week, it's better. I miss her. I mourn her. But some peace has returned. She had been so unattainable - so young, so much a citizen of a different era - that it is hard to feel fully deprived.