3,968 Quotes About Grief

I have no wish to take life, not even human life,” repeated Boxer, and his eyes were fullof tears.

I stared down into the opengrave and wished that I could summon a tear. Violent weeping would have been in exceedingly poor taste, but Miss Nell Harbottle had been my guardian for the whole of my life, and a tear of two would have been a nice gesture of respect

Saeed prayed a great deal, and so did his father, and so did their guests, and some of them wept, but Saeed had wept only once, when he first saw his mother's corpse and screamed, and Saeed's father wept only when he was alone in his room, silently, without tears, his body seized as though by a stutter, or a shiver, that would not let go, for his sense of loss was boundless, and his sense of the benevolence of the universe was shaken, and his wife had been his best friend.

Grief isn't a competition," she says

I believe that there are wounds that never really heal over time, some even persist and become a trigger for the new grief.

With the help of these and other commonplace objects—with the help also of the two big elm trees that shaded the house from the heat of the sun, and the trumpet vine by the back door, and the white lilac bush by the dining-room window, and the comfortable wicker porch furniture and the porch swing that contributed its creak…creak…to the sounds of the summer night—I got from one day to the next.

Käymme Akropoliksella. Sataa tihuuttaa. Meitä palelee ja naurattaa. Nauramme yhdessä koko ajan, ilman mitään järkevää syytä. Saatamme nauraa kymmenen vuotta yhdelle ja samalle jutulle. Yleensä ne ovat tilannekomiikkaa, joku ilme tai lauseenpätkä, jotakin mitä ei voi kertoa eteenpäin koska kukaan ei ymmärrä.

In that second I would have settled for one little piece of her, even just a whisper, like I'd felt in the library. Anything would be better than the sheer nothingness of being there without her.

We take so much into us when we lose someone we love,” he said. “We must hold what is left of them. We make choices they would have made, feel what they would have felt. This is the piece of ourselves we lose, you see, because we must make room for them. Death is a parasite, of sorts.