Quotes About Grief

My grief lies all within, And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul

Patch grief with proverbs

The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief: He robs himself that spends a bootless grief

Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief

How soon my sorrow hath destroyed my face

Everyone can master a grief but he that has it.

I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,And not have strew'd thy grave.

Grief fills the room up of my absent child,Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,Remembers me of all his gracious parts,Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form.

To perseverIn obstinate condolement is a courseOf impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief:It shows a will most incorrect to heaven,A heart unfortified, a mind impatient.

I will instruct my sorrows to be proud;For grief is proud and makes his owner stoop.

Howl, howl, howl, howl! O! you are men of stones:Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them soThat heaven's vaults should crack. She's gone forever.

And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,Never, never, never, never, never!Pray you, undo this button.

What's Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba,That he should weep for her?

A plague of sighing and grief! it blows a man up like a bladder.

Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,That sees into the bottom of my grief?

To weep is to make less the depth of grief.

Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!

Adieu! I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave.

O! that I were as greatAs is my grief, or lesser than my name,Or that I could forget what I have been,Or not remember what I must be now.

All my pretty ones?Did you say all? O hell-kite! All?What! all my pretty chickens and their damAt one fell swoop?

Death is a fearful thing.

A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.

Hector is dead; there is no more to say.

O! you must wear your rue with a difference. There's a daisy; I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died.