Quotes About Grief

no man was spared. What all had borne, each could bear. He shared their sorrow, and they became a part of his, and the sharing spread their grief a little, by thinning it.

Dogs could die, and bears and deer and other people. That was acceptable, because it was remote. His father could not die. The earth might cave in under him in one vast sink-hole and he could accept it. But without Penny, there was no earth. Without him there was nothing.

There are miracles, Maxine. Even in death, and betrayal, and grief—there are still miracles. Cling to that, cling to hope. No matter how terrible things get, or how helpless you feel. Hope is what will save you, again and again. So get up. Get up off that floor where I found you. Fight, Maxine. Fight for your life. Fight for other lives that haven't been born. Fight for your hope. Fight for your heart. You'll find a miracle if you do. I promise.

During the funeral, I realized that I couldn't stop sighing. I later read that sighing is one way we process grief. It is a physiological response to distress.

Since you died the house style could best be described as leaves that cling to trees too long into winter

For me elegy is a Ouija planchette something I pretend not to touch as I push it around trying to make it say what I want it to say

Grief was as individual as a fingerprint.

However much grief I carried, I liked the way my life was tending, these bright new directions. It's only human, to mourn and to reach toward forwardness at once.

When the Self dissolves into a world of separate selves and death becomes real, love becomes a pact with grief; what is gained then is the inescapability poignant fact of individuality. There will never be another you, and I love the stubborn particularity of you because you will disappear.

Mourning has no timetable. Grief is not the same for everyone. And it does not necessarily go away. The healthiest way to deal with it is to lean into it, rather than try to keep it at bay. In the attempt to fit in, to be normal, we end up feeling estranged.

The middle mammal brain is the seat of your emotions. (Call it your inner drama queen.) It's where powerful feelings—love, joy, sadness, anger, grief, jealousy, pleasure—arise.

She died on a windy gray day in March when the sky was full of darting crows and the world lay prostrate and defeated after winter. Peter Lake was at her side and it ruined him forever. It broke him as he had not ever imagined he could have been broken. He would never again be young, or able to remember what it was like to be young. What he had once taken to be pleasures would appear to him in his defeat as hideous and deserved punishments for reckless vanity.

Only God could take the deepest of human sorrows and in only six verses transform them into hope. That is exactly what this passage is about—hope. Death does not have the final word. The false teachers do not have the final word. Human speculation does not have the final word. Into the darkness of our confusion, God shines the light of His truth. God's truth can transform ignorance into understanding, grief into joy, and hopelessness into assurance.

Orcas and some other large whales have spindle neurons in their brains. These are cells that process emotion humans thought existed only in apes and us. Spindle neurons have been called the cells that make us human. They're the part of the brain that deals with complex emotions like love, guilt, grief and even embarrassment. Since these are the cells that allow us to feel deeply, isn't it likely they do the same for orcas?

If you shouldn't blame yourself for minor things you did or didn't do when someone dies, how can you start giving yourself credit for tiny things you did when something really good happens?

Death, like life, finds meaning in our connections to each other. Grief is bearable only because it can be shared.

I lost my father this past year, and the word feels right because I keep looking for him. As if he were misplaced. As if he could just turn up, like a sock or a set of keys.

Time slips by; our sorrows do not turn into poems, And what is invisible stays that way.

The best thing is to grieve for the people you loved and lost, and then welcome and love the new people life puts in front of you.

When at last he took off his glasses, the sun was setting, casting the lake in coppers and golds. He wiped away tears and put his glasses back on. Then he looked over, gave me a sad, sweet smile, and put his palm across his heart. "Forgive an old man his memories," Pino said. "Some loves never die.

By noon, Pino was sitting on the steps of La Scala where he could see the front of the Hotel Regina and the Daimler parked nearby. He was numb with grief. Gazing across the street at the statue of the great Leonardo and listening to the chatter of citizens who hurried past, he wanted to cry again. Everyone was talking about the atrocity.

Pino couldn't help thinking that he had just had the best evening of his life at the tail end of the worst day of his life. He'd experienced every emotion possible in a span of twelve hours, from horror to grief to kissing Anna.

Pain and grief sawed through Pino. This torment was his punishment, he decided. He bowed his head, understanding that this was between God and . . . The aria of the heartbroken clown echoed in his ears and Anna crumpled and fell again, and again, and . . . in a matter of seconds, his faith in God, in life, in love, and in a better tomorrow drained away to empty

The best thing is to grieve for the people you loved and lost, and then welcome and love the new people life puts in front of you." Pino