Quotes About Grief

Grief was a place, Sara understood, where a person went alone. It was like a room without doors, and what happened in that room, all the anger and the pain you felt, was meant to stay there, nobody's business but yours.

What is left when there is no love? A rope and rock.

so sad she couldn't even cry.

Grief was a place, Sara understood, where a person went alone.

But as love turns to grief, and grief becomes anger, so must anger yield to thought, in order to know itself.

But as love turns to grief, and grief becomes anger, so must anger yield to thought, in order to know itself. My symbolic properties were inarguable. Made by science, I was a perfect industrial product, the very embodiment of mankind's indefatigable faith in itself. Since our first, furry ancestor scraped flint on stone and banished night with fire, we have climbed heavenward on a ladder made of our own arrogance.

Sara waited a respectful time, knowing there was nothing she could do to ease the woman's pain. Grief was a place, Sara understood, where a person went alone. It was like a room without doors, and what happened in that room, all the anger and the pain you felt, was meant to stay there, nobody's business but yours.

A thousand recollected lives were passing through her, a thousand stories - of love and work, of parents and children, of duty and joy and grief. Beds slept in and meals eaten, and the bliss and pain of the body, and a view of summer leaves from a window on a morning it had rained; the nights of loneliness and the nights of love, the soul in it's body keeping always longing to be known.

That was always the hardest part, missing you.

Hunger is a reliable feeling; it had a simplicity love or grief did not.

Lost money is bewailed with deeper sighs Than friends, or kindred, and with louder cries.

Death is to be feared because of the pain and loss it inflicts through love, and for no other reason.

Ah well. He'd beaten her twice sind then: once on their honeymoon, though he still suspected her of throwing the game, and once on the day she lost the baby. And two out of eight hundred and six wasn't too bad, against such an opponent.

Grief must be shared to be endured

Mijn vader huilde nooit. Als hij bedroefd was, liep hij naar de tempel van de onbekende heilige. Daar knielde hij naast het graf, tikte zachtjes met een steentje tegen de grafsteen, praatte met de heilige en als hij zich weer beter voelde, wandelde hij terug naar huis.

There is only so much one can do for the dead without joining them. The Caravan from Troon

i have sung for you, he said, his voice cracking with pain. but who will sing for me? the woman i love... she is where you are now. If you meet her on the road to heaven, tell her that i love her. tell her that i'm waiting for her, and that i want nothing more than to cross that gorge scross which i have sent you , and to see her shade for myself! if she will forgive me for having failed her- having failed out peave!

even the slow, soft telepathic connection between us- the sense of connectedness that linked us even when we were in the same room- the sense that we were not two people but rather one ecstatic and indivisible whole, had vanished. i couldnt even feel his pain. but i could feel mine. i felt as if a part of myself had been cut off, as if there was within my soul a hole so gaping and empty that the whole world could pass through it and still i would not feel a thing.

How many times have an author come to me to say that I had told them so? Many. Choose to listen to or not the advice gained from experience and wisdom at your own peril. You might save yourself a lot of time and grief. - Strong by Kailin Gow on Being Strong for the Long Tail

Not Anymore "Do you have any brothers and sisters?" The teacher asked the child, Who was new, In our country, And our school. He sighed so long we thought He would never breathe again. Then in a rush of words, Like water going Over the falls, He said, I used to but not anymore because They Were killed in a war

Here Philippos the father buried his son Nikoteles, a child of twelve and his dearest hope.

Grief was what you owed the dead for the necessary crime of living on without them.

How horrifying that morning when you wake up and your first thought is not of the person who has left. That's when you know, I will never die of a broken heart.

Everything else you can live around, but not death. Death you have to live through.