Quotes About Grief

To grow up with the loss of your mother is a scar that never goes away.

Misery colored by the greens and blues in my mother's voice took away all the grief out of the words and left me with a conviction that pain was not only endurable, it was sweet.

When death takes your mother, it steals that word forever.

Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else's arms have made me feel this safe.

Where is your mother, Charlie asked. Dead. I'm sorry to hear that Thank you. But she was always dead.

Conor held tightly onto his mother. And by doing so, he could finally let her go.

Niobe would have been called most blessed of mothers, had she not seemed so herself.

Hold on ... Say your son or daughter has just gotten killed in a car accident and you're plastered out of your mind at 3 a.m. Are you going to be able to handle that?

A terrific sadness swept over Jerry. As if somebody had died. The way he felt standing in the cemetry that day they buried his mother. And nothing you could do about it.

Whatever time mother goes to heaven, it is always too soon. Fortunately, she is forever.

Get out of bed. Go to classes. Try to be normal, and pretty soon all that grief you carry...it gets easier.

Laughter, and the broader category of humor, are key elements in helping us go on with our life after a loss.

The saddest thing about death, whether it's our own or someone we care for, is when the world doesn't stop when we do.

The saddest thing about death, whether it's our own or someone we care for, is when the world doesn't stop we do.

The sperm donor that impregnated my mother (with me), passed away. Please, stop sending me private messages of condolences. I never met the man.

They say that a part of you dies when a special Loved One passes away...I disagree...I say a part of you lives with your Loved One on the other side.

Music exalts each joy, allays each grief, expels diseases, softens every pain.

In sweet music is such art: killing care and grief of heart fall asleep, or hearing, die.

Every day has its emotional difficulties. I miss my mother whether I'm singing her music or not.

When we first meet what we love, we could become poets for our longing. When we are removed from what we love, we become singers of grief and weavers of elegant description.

O Music! how it grieves me that imprudence, intemperance, gluttony, should open their channels into thy sacred stream.

Something touched me deep inside The day the music died.

Grief is nature's most powerful aphrodisiac.

Good things, by their nature, are fleeting. It's those that bring us grief that linger.