Quotes About Grief

Somebody stitched three holes in a line across that boy's chest and left nothing to indicate who or why.

Parents of murdered children have it worst, and to me the fathers have it even worse than the mothers because they are taught to be stoic, to "act like a man.

Ricky's genuine presence, his new capacity to feel deeply, to ache—had come about only as a product of her dying. It was a joke she would have appreciated.

And he clutched it tight in his fist, as if it were his final, brightest hope in a world of tragic illusions.

I can't give people back their loved ones. I can't restore their happiness or innocence, can't give back their lives the way they were. But I can give them the truth. Then they will be free to grieve for the dead, and then free to start living again. Truth like that can be a humbling and sacred gift for a scientist to give.

Charlotte, having seen his bodyBorne before her on a shutter,Like a well-conducted person,Went on cutting bread and butter.

And what would you do if you lost a child? -I would think I was going to die, Elena said. But I wouldn't. I learned long ago that I must give up my child to the earth, to God, to the world, to death, to the possibility of death, to the possibility of disease, and in doing so I became at peace. Because I had let my child go. And in letting the child go, I became colder, more distant, and more at peace. But I still loved the child, don't be wrong. As you love your child. I am sorry.

The great works of art and literature have a lot to say on how to tackle the concrete challenges of living, like how to escape the chains of public opinion, how to cope with grief or how to build loving friendships. Instead of organizing classes around academic concepts — 19th-century French literature — more could be organized around the concrete challenges students will face in the first decade after graduation.

For example, when a loved one dies, you validly think, "I lost him (or her), and I will miss the companionship and love we shared." The feelings such a thought creates are tender, realistic, and desirable. Your emotions will enhance your humanity and add depth to the meaning of life. In this way you gain from your loss.

there was no shame in crying when something or someone was worth crying over.

threnody through the postmortem

The delta blues is a low-down, dirty shame blues. It's a sad, big wide sound, something to make you think about people who are dead or the women who left you.

Every life is its own story- not without a share of glory, and not without a share of grief. I lived like a hero at seventeen. At nineteen, I die like a thief.

My, my! That does sound serious. He's almost delirious, But let's not give up yet. The sun still hasn't set On this grim tale of grief. Of course, as its chief Architect, I know how it ends. But this river has more bends Before it flows into the sea. So I'll forgo my omnipotence And keep you in the dark. Oooooo! What suspense! I just love being me!

Don't, Jar. There's been enough killing." "It'll never be enough! They murdered Dad!

Gilgamesh wandered in the wilderness grieving over the death of Enkidu and weeping saying: "Enkidu has died. Must I die too? Must Gilgamesh be like that?" Gilgamesh felt the fear of it in his belly. He said to himself that he would seek the son of Ubartutu, Utnapishtim, he, the only one of men by means of whom he might find out how death could be avoided. He said to himself that he would hasten to him, the dangers of the journey notwithstanding.

as usual, she wasn't able to live in the moment. Maybe that's what grief is: a permanent disconnect from the here and now.

Moreover, as usual, she wasn't able to live in the moment. Maybe that's what grief is: a permanent disconnect from here and now. She looked at the games adults played and felt detached. It was easy to tell herself: "I'm not here.".

Le corps dominait seul son royaume, celui des émotions et de la durée des chagrins.

Parler, c'est risquer d'évoquer Charlotte. Elle se cache derrière chaque mot.

I felt like a kid at Santa Claus's funeral.

Life is too brief. I had a friend whom I intended to know better. Yesterday he died.

The grief was always there, the foundational color of her eyes.

Och han är död, jag förstår nästan betydelsen av dessa ljud: Barnet är dött. Jag erkänner att dessa ord rymmer en sanning. Han är död. Han är död. Men hans död, hans död är inte död.