Quotes About Grief

Pavese casi nunca hablaba de Leone. No le gustaba hablar de los ausentes ni de los muertos. Lo decía. Decía: «Cuando alguien se marcha o se muere trato de no pensar en él, porque no me gusta sufrir»

She's gone," he answered.

The sorrow that lay cold in her mother's heart... converted it into a tomb.

Or—but this more rarely happened—she would be convulsed with a rage of grief, and sob out her love for her mother, in broken words, and seem intent on proving that she had a heart, by breaking it.

The great scene of grief, in which the wild infant bore a part, had developed all her sympathies; and as her tears fell upon her father's cheek, they were the pledge that she would grow up amid human joy and sorrow, nor for ever do battle with the world, but be a woman in it. Towards her mother, too, Pearl's errand as a messenger of anguish was all fulfilled.

She could no longer borrow from the future to help her through the present grief. Tomorrow would bring its own trial with it; so would the next day, and so would the next...

She could scarcely forgive him--least of all now, when the heavy footstep of their approaching Fate might be heard, nearer, nearer, nearer!--for being able so completely to withdraw himself from their mutual world--while she groped darkly, and stretched forth her cold hands, and found him not.

She could no longer borrow from the future to help her through the present grief.

All through life that piece of crape had hung between him and the world; it had separated him from cheerful brotherhood and woman's love and kept him in that saddest of all prisons his own heart;

She wanted--what some people want throughout life--a grief that should deeply touch her, and thus humanise and make her capable of sympathy.

with a heart as full of reminiscences about her dead husband and children, and her dead friends of long ago, as a burial-ground is full of storied gravestones.

If it be a sign of mourning, replied Mr. Hooper, I, perhaps, like most other mortals, have sorrows dark enough to be typified by a black veil.

You never realize the holes a person leaves behind until you fall into them.

Grief is not an excuse for depravity.

Wasn't it Jacqui who told us the human body is sity percent water? Well, now I know what the rest is. The rest is dust, the rest is ash, it's sorrow and it's grief... But above all that, in spite of all that, binding us together... is hope. And joy. And a wellspring of all the things that still might be.

Would the Thunderhead grieve our passing, I wonder? And if so, would it grieve as the child who has lost a parent, or as the parent who could not save a petulant child from its own poor choices?

He would have to adjust to a life without her, as well as a life without himself, for who was he now?

But whatever he was going to say, it leaked away with the last of his life. His head came to rest on Rowan`s shoulder, while all around them distant cries of agony filled the icy air.

Wasn't it Jacqui who told us the human body is sixty percent water? Well, now I know what the rest is. The rest is dust, the rest is ash, it's sorrow and it's grief... But above all that, in spite of all that, binding us together... is hope. And joy. And a wellspring of all the things that still might be.

Tyger Salazar had hurled himself out a thirty-nine-story window, leaving a terrible mess on the marble plaza below. His own parents were so annoyed by it, they didn't come to see him. But Rowan did. Rowan Damisch was just that kind of friend.

The human body is sixty percent water. Well, now I know what the rest is. The rest is dust, the rest is ash, it's sorrow and it's grief... But above all that, in spite of all that, binding us together... is hope. And joy. And a wellspring of all the things that still might be.

You have been dead for more than three years.

He had to ask, because he knew he wasn't Rowan Damisch anymore—not just because his fake ID said "Ronald Daniels," but because the boy he had once been had died a sad and painful death during his apprenticeship. The child in him had been successfully purged. Did anyone mourn that child? he wondered.

It starts with a mild weeping but soon crescendos into the same tortured sobs as his little brother, both of them wailing in a strange harmony of misery.