Quotes About Grief

In mezzo a loro, col corpo sudicio, i capelli sulla fronte e il naso da pulire, Ralph piangeva per la fine dell'innocenza.

Death of the heart,' the subtitle says, Whose death? And even more important maybe, whose heart?

The old man nodded. "Now I can die." She glanced at him. "Don't." Her tone was surprisingly tender, and probably she sensed how important he really was to her, because when he did die, two years further on, she went right after, and most of the people who knew her well agreed it was the sudden lack of opposition that undid her.

I only wish we could stay for his grief - it should be Homeric.

your milk, your milk has killed me" and then the child stiffened and cracked and turned in Buttercup's hands to nothing but dry dust and Buttercup screamed and screamed;

Aw shit,' I said and I started to cry.

LOLA    I wanted children, too. When I lost my baby and found out I couldn't have any more, I didn't know what to do with myself. I wanted to get a job, but Doc wouldn't hear of it.

The dead are never far from us. They're in our hearts and on our minds and in the end all that separates us from them is a single breath, one final puff of air.

The dead are never far from us. They're in our hearts and on our minds and in the end all that separates us from them is a single breath, one final puff of air.

If tears of grief flowed from the eyes and tears of anger from the ears, I could show my heart without saying a word. But my tears all pour in the same way from my eyes, and there's no difference in their color. It's not surprising that you can't tell what's in my heart.

In time, in time they tell me, I'll not feel so bad. I don't want time to heal me. There's a reason I'm like this. I want time to set me ugly and knotted with the loss of you, marking me. I won't smooth you away. I can't say goodbye.

In time, in time they tell me, I'll not feel so bad. I don't want time to heal me. There's a reason I'm like this. I want time to set me ugly and knotted with loss of you, marking me. I won't smooth you away. I can't say good-bye.

In time, in time they tell me, I'll not feel so bad. I don't want time to heal me. There's a reason I'm like this. I want time to set me ugly and knotted with loss of you, marking me. I won't smooth you away. I can't say goodbye.

One joy scatters a hundred griefs.

One joy shatters a hundred griefs

It feels as though it were just yesterday Grandfather exited my life like a bullet, leaving a bleeding hole behind.

It felt as though someone had reached into him and was wresting out his heart. In later life his sorrows would be deep-drawn and bone-aching sad, but never like this. Perhaps only the young can feel such exquisitely intense pain.

Nabakumar sighs. 'Ma,' he says. Then he is gone.

People get addicted to love. Or just to having someone around. So many times Mr. Mehta gave me grief. I had to get his permission for every little thing: read a book, go to the cinema, even phone my parents. A lot of times he'd say no just because he could. Yet when he died, I wept and wept.

That's Hercules," I say, though perhaps I'm pointing at Ursa Major. I tell Mrs. Mehta of his death at the hands of his wife, who suspected him of loving another woman.

Sometimes—she knows this from her own life—to get to the other side, you must travel through grief. No detours are possible.

Ram, lifting him up, also wept, because he knew that Dasharath was dead. 'He died just moments after you left, crying your name, his eyes darkening even before the dust had settled from the passing of your chariot,' Bharat said. I learned a new fact about love that day: it could kill.

Much has been written about Arjun's grief at this eleventh hour and what Krishna said in response to shake him out of immobility.

Grief has pulled her out further than she thought she could go. To the edge of what it is possible to bear, of what's habitable, and then further again.