Quotes About Grief

The most painful death in all the world is the death of a child. When a child dies, when one child dies-not the 11 per 1,000 we talk about statistically, but the one that a mother held briefly in her arms-he leaves an empty place in a parent's heart that will never heal.

That long drip of human tears.

Oh! virtue knows no hopeless grief, 'Tis sin that must despair; The true believer finds relief In solitary pray'r.

Man sagt: gefallen«, verbessert die Mutter. »Als ob er hingefallen wäre? Das verstehe ich nicht. Er ist doch tot.« »Ja.« Der Vater hat sich eine Zigarette angezündet. »Viele sind tot, Hunderttausende liegen tot da draußen. Und vielleicht, weil man sich das nicht vorstellen mag, nennt man es so.«

People lose people, we lose things in our life as we're constantly growing and changing. That's what life is is change, and a lot of that is loss. It's what you gain from that loss that makes life.

Later in the journey, Olek turned his head in against Henry's arm and began to weep. He would not at first tell Rosner what was wrong. When he did speak at last, it was to say that he was sorry to drag Henry off to Auschwitz. "To die just because of me," he said. Henry could have tried to soothe him by telling lies, but it wouldn't have worked. All the children knew about the gas. They grew petulant when you tried to deceive them.

O eyes, no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears;O life, no life, but lively form of death;O world, no world, but mass of public wrongs,Confused and filled with murder and misdeeds.

HIERONIMO. O eyes! no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears; O life! no life, but lively form of death O world! no world, but mass of public wrongs, Confus'd and fill'd with murder and misdeeds! O sacred heav'ns! if this unhallowed deed, If this inhuman and barbarous attempt, If this incomparable murder thus Of mine, but now no more my son, Shall unreveal'd and unreveng'd pass, How should we term your dealings to be just, If you unjustly deal with those that in your justice trust?

My grief no heart, my thoughts no tongue can tell.

Canst paint a doleful cry?

this heartbreaking sadness I suffer every minute of the day (and night), this killing sadness that feels as if it will never leave me no matter where I go or what I do or whom I may ever know.

Whatever its drawbacks, grief is a great sleeping draught to drug oneself into a noiseless, lightless paradise far from an agonizing universe. This is so.

Grief is the price we pay for being close to one another. If we want to avoid our grief, we simply avoid each other.

I think maybe Gladstone had it right. I think my father did. They understood that the meaning of life is connected, inextricably, to the meaning of death; that mourning is a romance in reverse, and if you love, you grieve and there are no exceptions---only those who do it well and those who don't.

We deal with love by dealing with the ones we love, with sickness by dealing with the sick, and with death by dealing with the dead. And

The living have to live with it. You don't. Theirs is the grief or the gladness of your death, theirs is the loss or gain of it. Theirs is the pain and the pleasure of memory.

What we call mourning for our dead is perhaps not so much grief at not being able to call them back as it is grief at not being able to want to do so.

Oh, breathe not his name! let it sleep in the shade,Where cold and unhonor'd his relics are laid.

And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls,Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.

You were not contented while you had her, and to weep for her now is childish.

he woke up one morning and realized that the conditions he had been accustomed to seeing as permanent had changed. He was no longer at the center of things. After his wife died the house had gone silent. It wasn't the hearth where the clan gathered for warmth and sustenance anymore. It was just a solitary man's place.

Marryin's good, keeps a body on his toes. Me, once I lost Clem, I never cared to wed again.

O lost, And by the wind grieved, Ghost, Come back again.

The dead don't stay interested in us living people for very long. Gradually, gradually, they let go hold of the earth… and the ambitions they had… and the pleasures they had… and the things they suffered… and the people they loved. They get weaned away from earth—that's the way I put it—weaned away.