Quotes About Grief

Let the dead be dead," agreed Rowan.

The panting lover bending o'er his fair one Looks like a dying man caressing his own tomb

All dark, all bloody, my heart

Ä°ÅŸte onlar gibi biri, Venüs heykelinin altl???na büzülmüÅŸ, ölümsüz tanr?çaya bak?p gözyaÅŸlar? döküyor... Gel gör ki insafs?z Venüs, uzaklara bilmediÄŸim bir ÅŸeylere bak?yor mermer gözleriyle.

Et de longs corbillards, sans tambours ni musique, Défilent lentement dans mon âme ; l'Espoir, Vaincu, pleure, et l'Angoisse atroce, despotique, Sur mon crâne incliné plante son drapeau noir.

The Alchemy of Grief

Now something so sad has hold of us that the breath leaves and we can't even cry.

eleven months. now she's gone gone as they go.

sometimes there's nothing to say about death.

it is all ash and dry leaves and grief gone like an ocean liner.

Jim, did your father really blow his brains out because of your mother?" "Yeah. He was on the telephone. He told her he had a gun. He said, 'If you don't come back to me I'm going to kill myself. Will you come back to me?' And my mother said, 'No.' There was a shot and that was that." "What did your mother do?" "She hung up.

I am sad for the dead and I am sad for the living but not for my 5 cats

There was so much sadness in everything, even when things worked. Then

Jim, did your father really blow his brains out because of your mother? Yeah.He was on the telephone.He told her he had a gun.He said, If you don't come back to me I'm going to kill myself. Will you come back to me?´ And my mother said, No. There was a shot and that was that. What did your mother do? She hung up. All right, I'll see you tonight buddy.

one day the goldfish died, all five of them, they floated on the water, on their sides, their eyes still open, and when my father got home he threw them to the cat there on the kitchen floor and we watched as my mother smiled

The priest read his thing. I didn't listen. There was the coffin. What had been Betty was in there. It was very hot. The sun came down in one yellow sheet. A fly circled around. Halfway through the halfway funeral two guys in working clothes came carrying my wreath. The roses were dead, dead and dying in the heat, and they leaned the thing up against a nearby tree. Near the end of the service my wreath leaned forward and fell flat on its face. Nobody picked it up. Then it was over.

I am sad for the dead and I am sad for the living

bulls strut in pinwheel glory, rockets stun the sky, but I don't know quite what to make of the dead flowers of myself, whether to dump them out of the bowl or press them between these blank pages and go on; well, all grief comes down to hard death and weeping finally ends. thank the god who made it.

Englishmen rarely cry, except under the pressure of the acutest grief; whereas in some parts of the Continent the men shed tears much more readily and freely.

great loss wasn't that simple. You couldn't just wish yourself out of it. You had to go through it all the way, had to let grief roll over you like Mississippi floodwater until it decided to let you rise to the surface and keep going, more beaten and broken than before.

All your grief hasn't changed a thing. What you have lost will not be returned to you. It will always be lost. You're left with only your scars to mark the void. All you can choose to do is go on or not. But if you go on, it's knowing you carry your scars with you.

Put away from you this unfounded grief; only let it be a lesson to you to be as kind as possible to those you love; and remember, when they are gone from you, you will never think you had been kind enough.

He knew what loss was, how the mind refuses to believe, the way the body aches with a need that can't be satisfied, and the awful, endless desolation of the spirit.

I wasn't there, I wasn't there." The final failure, in the father's eyes. "Nor was God," Rutledge said, and sat with the grieving man for another quarter of an hour, until he was calmer.