Quotes About Grief

The hills and trees before me, the worms and lions, stones and tender buds, Daedalus' loom, all wavered as if they were a fraying dream. Beneath them was the place I truly dwelt, a cold eternity of endless grief.

I was a gray space filled up with nothing. What could I say? One of us must grieve. I would not let it be him.

So that is what I must hope for then? That one day I will see my father in the underworld and he will be sorry?" It is better than some of us get. But I held my peace. He had a right to his anger, and it was not my place to try to take it.

Will I feel his ashes as they fall against mine?

the place I truly dwelt, a cold eternity of endless grief.

FOR THE FIRST TIME since my death, he falls into a fitful, trembling sleep. Achilles. I cannot bear to see you grieving. His limbs twitch and shudder. Give us both peace. Burn me and bury me. I will wait for you among the shades. I will— But already he is waking. "Patroclus! Wait! I am here!" He shakes the body beside him. When I do not answer, he weeps again.

The bed felt cold without him, and too large. I heard no sounds, and the stillness frightened me. It is like a tomb. I rose and rubbed my limbs, slapped them awake, trying to ward of a rising hysteria. This is what it will be, every day, without him. I felt a wild-eyed tightness in my chest, like a scream. Every day, without him.

And perhaps, it is the greatest grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone Do you think? Perhaps, Achilles admitted

The voices of the dead were said to have the power to make the living mad.

Daedalus did not long outlive his son. His limbs turned gray and nerveless, and all his strength was transmuted into smoke. I had no right to claim him, I knew it. But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation was he to me.

I lay on the dirt, weeping. Those flowers had made him his true being, which was blue, and finned, and not mine. I thought I would die of such pain, which was not like the sinking numbness Aeëtes had left behind, but sharp and fierce as a blade through my chest. But of course I could not die. I would live on, through each scalding moment to the next. This is the grief that makes our kind choose to be stones and trees rather than flesh.

This was how I came to be ten, and an orphan. This is how I came to Phthia.

he buired his face in his hands and did not speak. i held him and whispered all the bits of broken comfort i could find.

Es correcto buscar la paz para los muertos —insiste Príamo con voz amable—. Tú y yo sabemos bien que no la hay para quienes los sobreviven. —No —susurra Aquiles.

Exile might satisfy the anger of the living but it did nothing to appease the dead.

Grief is a form of validation; it says the wound mattered. It mattered. You mattered.

Staring out to sea, I finally forced myself to stop thinking of her as someone still somewhere, if only in memory, still obscurely alive, breathing, doing, moving, but as a shovelful of ashes already scattered; as a broken link, a biological dead end, an eternal withdrawal from reality, a once complex object that now dwindled, dwindled, left nothing behind except a l like a fallen speck of soot on a blank sheet of paper.

Fiecare moarte apas? asupra celor vii, fiecare moarte apas? cu povara grea a complicit??ii; fiecare moarte este absurd?, l?sându-i pe ceilalÈ›i cu un sentiment de permanent? vinov??ie È™i o tristeÈ›e f?r? sfârÈ™it.

I know what it's like when people go away. It's agony for a week, then painful for a week, then you begin to forget, and then it seems as it never happened, it happened to someone else, and you start shrugging. You say, dingo, it's life, that's the way the things are. Stupid things like that. As if you haven't really lost something for ever.

So this wonderful city Has only dead ashes for me.

Amonth after the death of her husband, Jackie Bell moved with her three children to her parents' home in Rome, Georgia.

I read a story once about a guy who killed himself. Some shrink was going on about the futility of trying to understand it. It's impossible, makes no sense at all. Once a person reaches that point, he's in another world, one that his survivors will never understand.

She nodded again, and took a deep breath. A small tear managed to find its way through the swelling and dropped onto her left cheek. He

Catherine wore a long black silk dress. The court was still in mourning for the dead king