Quotes About Grief

That's the hardest thing to cope with when a young person dies—especially when they've been murdered. The unfulfilled dreams, the unrealized potential. The people close to them—family, friends—thought they had so much time to make up for mistakes, plenty of time down the road to tell that person they loved them. Suddenly that time is gone.

When my first wife died long ago, in Ethiopia, I thought I knew grief. But until you have witnessed the death of a loved one to another man's violence, you know nothing of grief.

The Vazdru do not weep. Who weeps? Not I. Every word spoken was a tear.

I loved him, just for a minute. I loved him and I grieved for him and my pity was part of the beauty, before the shame began.

Then he was gone, and all the colors and the light of the day crumbled and went out.

It is the ability to perform for days or weeks like balanced and cheerful automata, when some substrata, something upon which our codes or our hopes had firmly rested has given way. Men who lose their wives or their God are quite capable of behaving in this manner, for an indefinite season. After which the collapse is brilliant and total.

Death had been love's price.

The grief would now take the world from him and deliver him to darkness, and he was glad of it.

Living With The Dead Molly Brown I

Let the sky weep for me, Doro. Now I can only weep blood.

But the jewel you lost was blue.

It was a saying about noble figures in old Irish poems—he would give his hawk to any man that asked for it, yet he loved his hawk better than men nowadays love their bride of tomorrow. He would mourn a dog with more grief than men nowadays mourn their fathers.

The song died in his mouth.

Il y a des chagrins qui vous dévorent, qui vous écrasent, et on ne peut... Eh bien, on ne peut rien y faire

He tells them he and his wife are keeping the baby, because it's the last link to their little girl or some cowpuckie like that.

on grief) And you do come out of it, that's true. After a year, after five. But you don't come out of it like a train coming out of a tunnel, bursting through the downs into sunshine and that swift, rattling descent to the Channel; you come out of it as a gull comes out of an oil-slick. You are tarred and feathered for life.

The price of great love is great misery when one of you dies.

When grief is becoming, it is also suspect.

Great grief can be worn charmingly by a beauty and I have seen a lot of gracious dignity at funerals in my time but is my experience that when grief is becoming it is also suspect. Real unhappiness is ugly and wounding and scarring to the soul.

Only those who are bereaved of all joy in this present world may take refuge in the shadows of the past.

No one gets to quit. You keep fighting, every day, and sooner or later, the grief fades a little. You grow stronger, find joy again, and everything gets easier. You come out of it more equipped to handle the next wave, which will come eventually. There will always be waves.

The death of my child was the death of my own heart.

It's no different from losing a loved one," he said. "You grieve, but then you have no choice but to go on living your life. You find a way to be happy again. It's not impossible. You just have to decide when you're ready to accept that they're gone.

I didn't know that disappointment and grief could become all consuming. I couldn't comprehend how those feelings could cripple a person permanently and cast a shadow over an entire future.