Quotes About Grief

I dragged on my ruined life in darkness and grief, wrathful in my heart...

She prayed then to whatever power may care in comprehending justice for the grief of lovers bound unequally by love.

Tum vero exarsit iuveni dolor ossibus ingens, nec lacrimis caruere genae, segnemque Menoeten, oblitus decorisque sui sociumque salutis, in mare praecipitem puppi deturbat ab alta; ipse gubernaclo rector subit, ipse magister

In foribus letum Androgeo:  tum pendere poenas Cecropidae iussi---miserum!---septena quotannis corpora natorum; stat ductis sortibus urna.

Heu, miserande puer, si qua fata aspera rumpas, tu Marcellus eris. Manibus date lilia plenis, purpureos spargam flores...» «O giovane degno di pietà, se solo tu potessi rompere il tuo fato crudele, tu sarai Marcello. Versate gigli a piene mani, che io sparga fiori purpurei...»

Inde datum molitur iter.  Iamque arva tenebant ultima, quae bello clari secreta frequentant. Hic illi occurrit Tydeus, hic inclutus armis Parthenopaeus et Adrasti pallentis imago; hic multum fleti ad superos belloque caduci Dardanidae, quos ille omnes longo ordine cernens ingemuit

Being myself no stranger to grief, I am learning to help the unhappy

Sometimes the hardest goodbyes are the ones never said, the ones that always just hang there in the back of the mind like a dark cloud. There's so much to say but no one to say it to because the person you want most to hear it is already gone. That's how he felt. Sorrow, regret, a wound so deep it didn't even bleed. Like a puncture wound, an ache that didn't heal but just hurt. He didn't know if he wanted it to heal. That'd be too much like a final goodbye.

I have lost friends, some by death...others by sheer inability to cross the street.

When the body escaped mutilation, seldom did the heart go to the grave unscarred.

Never did anybody look so sad. Bitter and black, halfway down, in the darkness, in the shaft which ran from the sunlight to the depths, perhaps a tear formed; a tear fell; the waves swayed this way and that, received it, and were at rest. Never did anybody look so sad.

Mr Ramsay, stumbling along a passage one dark morning, stretched his arms out, but Mrs Ramsay having died rather suddenly the night before, his arms, though stretched out, remained empty.

I have lost friends, some by death—Percival—others through sheer inability to cross the street.

There was an embrace in death.

His wife was crying, and he felt nothing; only each time she sobbed in this profound, this silent, this hopeless way, he descended another step into the pit.

Bien des choses se sont détachées de moi. J'ai survécu à certain désirs; j'ai perdu des amis, les uns par la mort, d'autres par ma simple incapacité à traverser la rue.

And then the shower fell, sudden, profuse. No one had seen the cloud coming. There it was, black, swollen, on top of them. Down it poured like all the people in the world weeping. Tears. Tears. Tears.

and yet Nancy felt, it might be true that she minded losing her brooch, but she wasn't crying only for that. She was crying for something else. We might all sit down and cry, she felt. But she did not know what for.

Bien des choses se sont détachées de moi. J'ai survécu à certains désirs; j'ai perdu des amis, les uns par la mort, d'autres par ma simple incapacité à traverser la rue.

Never did anybody look so sad.

She felt somehow very like him—the young man who had killed himself.

The shock of her death froze something in me. The child I loved, was gone, but I kept looking for her - long after I had left my own childhood behind. The poison was in the wound, you see. And the wound wouldn't heal.

I was an infant when my parents died. Thye both were ornithologists. I've tried So often to evoke them that today I have a thousand parents. Sadly they Dissolve in their own virtues and recede, But certain words, chance words I hear or read, Such as bad heart always to him refer, And cancer of the pancreas to her.

Unfortunately his urge to write had suddenly petered out and he did not know what to do with himself. He was not sleepy having slept after dinner. The brandy only added to the nuisance. He was a big heavy man of the hairy sort with a somewhat Beethovenlike face. He had lost his wife in November. He had taught philosophy. He was exceedingly virile. His name was Adam Krug.