ᐅ143+ Grief Quotes to Inspire and Uplift You From Loss

“And this evening when I close my eyes against the darkness and think about her,

“And this evening when I close my eyes against the darkness and think about her, I'll imagine iridescent wings fluttering, if only for a moment, against cloudless blue skies.” ― Nancy Stephan

“Love is infinite. Grief can lead to love. Love can lead to grief. Grief is a

“Love is infinite. Grief can lead to love. Love can lead to grief. Grief is a love story told backward just as love is a grief story told backward.” ― Bridget Asher

“Many people will tell that it is not for a man to cry, but they may not know how is to feel your head empty and only tears will come out to stand up for you.” ― John Zea

“... Now to die of grief would mean, I'm afraid, to die belatedly, while latecomers are unwelcome, particularly in the future. ...” ― Joseph Brodsky

“The idea of immortality, that like a sea has ebbed and flowed in the human heart, with its countless waves of hope and fear, beating against the shores and rocks of time and fate, was not born of any book, nor of any creed, nor of any religion. It was born of human affection, and it will continue to ebb and flow beneath the mists and clouds of doubt and darkness as long as love kisses the lips of death. It is the rainbow – Hope shining upon the tears of grief.” ― Robert G. Ingersoll

“Every wonderful quality "in" someone is waiting to be recognized in all of life's great symphony.” ― Donna Goddard

“If there is nothing else there is this: to be inundated, consumed.” ― Peter Heller

“Don't let me lose myself.” ― Jack Croxall

“... [They] took it upon themselves to start the laborious process of cranking up life again, after death has stopped us all in its tracks.” ― Diane Setterfield

“Knowledge is power, as some say. But on some days it is just as much pain and confusion as it is power; and any wise man worth his salt as a wise man at least understands this. One may be able to comprehend all the human perspectives in the universe, but this gives more to decipher regarding what is actually true; and even after discovering the truth, the challenge is in maintaining a patience for the infinite number of opinions that do not reflect that truth. Its consistency in man is challenge. A worldly knowledge ends at the former challenge of confusion, but the knowledge of Christ ends at the latter challenge of patience.” ― Criss Jami,

“Grief's only ever as deep as the love it's replaced.” ― Pat Barker

“I wonder if my first breath was as soul-stirring to my mother as her last breath was to me” ― Lisa Goich-Andreadis

“Grief is an amputation, but hope is incurable haemophilia: you bleed and bleed and bleed. Like Schrödinger’s cat inside a box you can never ever open.” ― David Mitchell

“Maybe laughter was one of the very first things you lost after something like that.” ― Holly Jackson

“Her only weapons were her tears.” ― Eiji Yoshikawa

“The house is eerily quiet. All this time I thought silence would be a welcome reprieve, but it's less comforting than I imagined. The house feels so much bigger and colder than it ever has.” ― Hannah Harrington

“Memories saturate my heart and  the story of you spills from my eyes.          ­­—Grace Andren”

“I need not describe the feelings of those whose dearest ties are rent by that most irreparable evil, the void that presents itself to the soul, and the despair that is exhibited on the countenance. It is so long before the mind can persuade itself that she whom we saw everyday and whose very existence appeared a part of our own can have departed forever - that the brightness of a beloved eye can have been extinguished and the sound of a voice so familiar and dear to the ear can be hushed, never more to be heard. (...) The time at length arrives when grief is rather an indulgence than a necessity; and the smile that plays upon the lips, although it may be deemed a sacrilege, is not banished.” ― Mary Shelley

“That's the worst of sorrow . . . it's always a vicious circle. It makes one tense and hard and disagreeable, and this means that one repels and antagonises people, and then they dislike and avoid one--and that means more isolation and still more sorrow.” ― Vera Brittain

“Nothing is lost that love remembers.” ― Kate McGahan

“Oh dire, dreadful death, you drag your heels. Why dawdle and draw back? You drown my heart.” ― Simon Armitage

“[Philip's death was] beyond comparison the most afflicting of my life.... He was truly a fine youth. But why should I repine? It was the will of heaven and he is now out of the reach of the seductions and calamities of a world full of folly, full of vice, full of danger, of least value in proportion as it is best known. I firmly trust also that he has safely reached the haven of eternal repose and felicity. (Alexander Hamilton letter to Benjamin Rush about the death of his 19-year old son from mortal wounds inflicted from a duel.)” ― Ron Chernow

“Come, my child," I said, trying to lead her away. "Wish good-bye to the poor hare, and come and look for blackberries." "Good-bye, poor hare!" Sylvie obediently repeated, looking over her shoulder at it as we turned away. And then, all in a moment, her self-command gave way. Pulling her hand out of mine, she ran back to where the dead hare was lying, and flung herself down at its side in such an agony of grief as I could hardly have believed possible in so young a child. "Oh, my darling, my darling!" she moaned, over and over again. "And God meant your life to be so beautiful!” ― Lewis Carroll

“Why do we as humans always tend to remember the worse things about people? We may know someone for many years, know them as vibrant and healthy, yet when they fall ill and pass away, we can only picture them at their sickest, as though they were born and lived their whole lives wearing a death mask.” ― K. Martin Beckner

“Sometimes the opposite of loss is loss.” ― Penelope Scambly Schott

“There is nothing more painful than the untimely death of someone young and dear to the heart. The harrowing grief surges from a bottomless well of sorrow, drowning the mourner in a torrent of agonizing pain; an exquisite pain that continues to afflict the mourner with heartache and loneliness long after the deceased is buried and gone.” ― Jocelyn Murray

“Don’t let anyone tell you how long it will take for you to heal—but be aware that time is passing, whether you’re healing or not.” ― Maryanne Pop

“Remember me when I am dead and simplify me when I'm dead.” ― Keith Douglas

“And when I stand in the receiving line like Jackie Kennedy without the pillbox hat, if Jackie were fat and had taken enough Klonopin to still an ox, and you whisper I think of you every day, don't finish with because I've been going to Weight Watchers on Tuesdays and wonder if you want to go too.” ― Kathleen Sheeder Bonanno

“Unacquainted with grief, I knew not how to appraise my bereavement; I could not rightly estimate the strength of the stroke.” ― Ambrose Bierce

“Sorrow dogged by sorrow is in mah heart.” ― Zora Neale Hurston

“We get sombre about death. Think about Charon the ferryman rowing the souls across the Styx to the Isle of the Dead. Pretty grim stuff. Unless you think that, perhaps, at times, old Charon rows souls back to the land of the living too. Perhaps I have merely gone to rest awhile…” ― Sean J. Halford

“And a soul would run by a living being, touch them softly on the shoulder or cheek, and continue on its way to heaven. The dead are never exactly seen by the living, but many people seem acutely aware of something changed around them. They speak of a chill in the air. The mates of the deceased wake from dreams and see a figure standing at the end of their bed, or in a doorway, or boarding, phantomlike, a city bus.” ― Alice Sebold

“Eskimos, it is said, have forty different words for snow. Never mind about snow, Cardinal mused, what people really need is forty words for sorrow. Grief. Heartbreak. Desolation” ― Giles Blunt

“Rachael could see the lavender fields from where they sat at the kitchen table. They stretched in a purple haze over the landscape, the bright sunshine washing over them. The mauve complimented the blue-grey of the Australian bush in the far distance.” ― Ellen Read

“The air between us crackles, as it does when you speak of your beloved dead. But it’s hard to know what to say next.” ― Lily King

“Though he plunged into work as another man might have plunged into dissipation, to drown the thought of her, you could see that he had no longer any interest in it; he no longer loved it. He attacked it with a fury that had more hate in it than love.” ― May Sinclair

“The bullet is followed by the silence of the grave, but a wasted youth is followed by years of grief and agonising memories.” ― Anton Chekhov

“Ruth, que quería que todos creyeran lo que ella sabía: que los muertos realmente nos hablan, que, en el aire que rodea a los vivos, los espíritus se mueven, se entremezclan y ríen con nosotros. Son el oxígeno que respiramos.” ― Alice Sebold

“Only by the shuddering of the bed did Toby realize the girl was sobbing. Molly herself made no sound; it was as though her grief was trapped in a jar, her cries inaudible to anyone but her.” ― Tess Gerritsen

“I think I am beginning to understand why grief feels like suspense. It comes from the frustration of so many impulses that had become habitual. Thought after thought feeling after feeling, action after action, had H. for their object. Now their target is gone. I keep on through habit fitting an harrow to the string, then I remember and have to lay the bow down. So many roads lead thought to H. I set out on one of them. But now there's an impassable frontierpost across it. So many roads once; now so many culs de sac.” ― C.S. Lewis

“Anyone who has learned the Quran and holds it lovingly in his heart will 'value his nights when people are asleep, his days when people are given to excess, his grief when people are joyful, his weeping when people laugh, his silence when people chatter and his humility when people are arrogant'. In other words every moment of life will be precious to him, and he should therefore be 'gentle', never harsh nor quarrelsome, 'nor one who makes a clamour in the market nor one who is quick to anger'.” ― Ibn Mas'ud

“They always prided themselves on looking youthful. “Forty’s the new thirty,” they’d joke. Until heartbreak and grief enter your life, and then forty’s the new one hundred.” ― Melina Marchetta

“Grief dares us to love once more.”

“Grief dares us to love once more.” ― Terry Tempest Williams

“Bridge-players tell me that there must be some money on the game 'or else people won't take it seriously'. Apparently it's like that. Your bid - for God or no God, for a good God or the Cosmic Sadist, for eternal life or nonentity - will not be serious if nothing much is staked on it. And you will never discover how serious it was until the stakes are raised horribly high, until you find that you are playing not for counters or for sixpences but for every penny you have in the world.” ― C.S. Lewis

“If it is possible to die of grief then why on earth can't someone be healed by happiness?” ― Jodi Picoult

“It is extraordinary that nobody nowadays under the stress of great troubles is turned into stone or a bird or a tree or some inanimate object; they used to undergo such metamorphoses in ancient times (or so they say), though whether that is myth or a true story I know not. Maybe it would be better to change one's nature into something that lacks all feeling, rather than be so sensitive to evil. Had that been possible, these calamities would in all probability have turned me to stone.” ― Anna Comnena

“Eyyia?" said her husband, and Eliane bet Danel heard the mangling of her name as music. "You sound like a marsh frog," she said, moving to stand before his chair. By the flickering light she saw him smile. "Where have you been," she asked. "My dear. I've needed you so much." "Eyyia," he tried again, and stood up. His eyes were black hollows. They would always be hollows. He opened his arms and she moved into the space they made in the world, and laying her head against his chest she permitted herself the almost unimaginable luxury of grief.” ― Guy Gavriel Kay

“And wilt thou have me fashion into speech The love I bear thee, finding words enough, And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough, Between our faces, to cast light on each? - I dropt it at thy feet. I cannot teach My hand to hold my spirits so far off From myself--me--that I should bring thee proof In words, of love hid in me out of reach. Nay, let the silence of my womanhood Commend my woman-love to thy belief, - Seeing that I stand unwon, however wooed, And rend the garment of my life, in brief, By a most dauntless, voiceless fortitude, Lest one touch of this heart convey its grief.” ― Elizabeth Barrett Browning

“They'd crossed over to that continent where grieving parents lived. It looked the same as the rest of the world, but wasn't. Colors bled pale. Music was just notes. Books no longer transported or comforted, not fully. Never again. Food was nutrition, little more. Breaths were sighs. And they knew something the rest didn't. They knew how lucky the rest of the world was.” ― Louise Penny

“When someone you love dies, you get a big bowl of sadness put down in front of you, steaming hot. You can start eating now, or you can let it cool and eat it bit by bit later one. Either way, you end up eating the whole thing. There's really no way around it.” ― Ralph Fletcher

“I see now that my faith was becoming an ally rather than an enemy because I could vent anger freely, even toward God, without fearing retribution.” ― Jerry Sittser

“My life is now divided into two periods: With June and After June. I can't wrap my mind around the idea of it.” ― Hannah Harrington

“...this woman, moved by some private sorrow as much as the words being spoken, cried almost silently, unobserved by others, apart from Mma Ramotswe, who stretched out her hand and laid it on her shoulder. Do not cry, Mma, she began to whisper, but changed her words even as she uttered them, and said quietly, Yes, you can cry, Mma. We should not tell people not to weep - we do it because of our sympathy for them - but we should really tell them that their tears are justified and entirely right.” ― Alexander McCall Smith

“Healing Follows Forgiveness” ― Pat Bluth

“There are silences and silences. No one of them is like another. There is the silence of grief in velvet-draped rooms of a plushly carpeted funeral parlor which is far different from the bleak and terrible silence of grief in a widower's lonely bedroom.” ― Dean Koontz

“And they had folded his brother's hands across his suited chest, as if he would be preserved in this sanguine pose forever, but only the heavy callouses visible at the sides of his hands seemed real. It was only the callouses that appeared to be familiar and believable.” ― Kent Haruf

“[A]s though mindful of the wife of Lot, who looked back from behind him, thou deliveredst me first to the sacred garments and monastic profession before thou gavest thyself to God. And for that in this one thing thou shouldst have had little trust in me I vehemently grieved and was ashamed. For I (God [knows]) would without hesitation precede or follow thee to the Vulcanian fires according to thy word. For not with me was my heart, but with thee. But now, more than ever, if it be not with thee, it is nowhere. For without thee it cannot anywhere exist.” ― Héloïse

“She closed her eyes, silently continuing the pleas that she be given words that might soothe, words that would begin the healing of bereaved parents. She had seen, when she entered the kitchen, the chasm of sorrow that divided man and wife already, each deep in their own wretched suffering, neither knowing what to say to the other. She knew that to begin to talk about what had happened was a key to acknowledging their loss, and that such acceptance would in turn be a means to enduring the days and months ahead.” ― Jacqueline Winspear

“It's like Romeo & Juliet,' I say. 'You can't separate them. Otherwise, there would be no Shakespeare.' Silence. I decide to be more straightforward. I tell him, 'Nothing frightens me anymore. I am not even afraid to die.' Bussey's eyes, already wide open, grow even wider. My death is the last thing he needs. I have the strange feeling that there are two of me. One observes the conversation while the other does the talking. Everything is abnormal, especially this extreme calm that has taken me over. I try to explain to Bussey that if I decide to die, it will be without bitterness. I know I did everything I possibly could, so it will be respectful farewell. I will bow to life like an actor, who, having delivered his lines, bends deeply to his audience & retires. I tell Bussey that this decision has nothing to do with him, that it is entirely mine. I will choose either to live or to die, but I cannot allow myself to live in the in-between. I do not want to go through life like a ghost. 'Do you think you'll find Danny this way?' Bussey asks. My mind sifts through all available theories on the afterlife. It is as if this metaphysical question has become as real as the air we breathe. Buddhism teaches that life is an eternal cycle without beginning or end. I recall the metaphor: "Our individual lives are like waves produced from the great ocean that is the universe. The emergence of a wave is life, and its abatement is death. This rhythm repeats eternally." Finally I answer Bussey, 'No, I don't think so.' Bussey seems relieved, but I'm more panicky, because I had never thought that I could wind up alone. In my mind, whatever the odds, Danny & I were & would be together forever.” ― Mariane Pearl

“You are a most effective killer, Michel. Is it true you wept like a child when they killed your sister? That you cried out in agony as if the sword had pierced your own heart? Such compassion. Does your handiwork not bring you to tears as well?” ― P.A. Minyard

“As she cried, I could feel growing there, as had once before, a presence between us: the tiny perfect form of Sherry nestled between her parents' bodies. Our bodies were shaped by her absence, by the almost unbearable weight of her loss.” ― Robert J. Wiersema

“Why write wrong if the writing won’t right the wrong? (90)” ― Sandra M. Gilbert

“I need to ask, are you afraid of spiders?" Nicholas blinked, suddenly caught off guard, "Yes, I'm afraid of spiders." "Were you always?" "What are you, a psychiatrist?" Pritam took a breath. He could feel Laine's eyes on him, appraising his line of questioning. "Is it possible that the trauma of losing your best friend as a child and the trauma of losing your wife as an adult and the trauma of seeing Laine's husband take his life in front of you just recently..." Pritam shrugged and raised his palms, "You see where I'm going?" Nicholas looked at Laine. She watched back. Her gray eyes missed nothing. "Sure," agreed Nicholas, standing. "And my sister's nuts, too, and we both like imagining that little white dogs are big nasty spiders because our daddy died and we never got enough cuddles." "Your father died?" asked Laine. "When?" "Who cares?" Pritam sighed. "You must see this from our point of - " "I'd love to!" snapped Nicholas. "I'd love to see it from your point of view, because mine is not that much fun! It's insane! It's insane that I see dead people, Pritam! It's insane that this," he flicked out the sardonyx necklace,"stopped me from kidnapping a little girl!" "That's what you believe," Pritam said carefully. "That's what I fucking believe!" Nicholas stabbed his finger through the air at the dead bird talisman lying slack on the coffee table.” ― Stephen M. Irwin

“I can't stop thinking about what he felt like against my body, against my lips. I can't remember anything else, anything before that. And I realize in this moment that I've finally done it. That horrible, awful thing I swore I would never do. The frosting. The cigarettes. The blue glass triangle. The shooting stars. The taste of his mouth on mine in the hall closet. Gone. All I can think about is Sam. Matt is – erased. My whole body is warm and buzzing. Sam is smiling next to me, because of me. And I've never felt so lonely in all my life.” ― sarah ockler

“I wonder if I were to have an X-ray at the little hospital, would the machine see my grief? Is it like rust, arheum about the heart?” ― Sebastian Barry

“We are out sisters' keepers.” ― Eileen Granfors

“Even now I cannot believe that I am still alive and writing this account of the emperor's death. I put my hands to my eyes, wondering if what I am relating here is not all a dream - or maybe it is not a dream: perhaps it is a delusion and I am mad, the victim of some extraordinary and monstrous hallucination. How comes it that when he is dead I am still numbered among the living?” ― Anna Comnena

“Parables, yes. We here are to lead life with woe. Tasting bitter.” ― Lynne Sharon Schwartz

“The Shadow on the Stone I went by the Druid stone That stands in the garden white and lone, And I stopped and looked at the shifting shadows That at some moments there are thrown From the tree hard by with a rhythmic swing, And they shaped in my imagining To the shade that a well-known head and shoulders Threw there when she was gardening. I thought her behind my back, Yea, her I long had learned to lack, And I said: “I am sure you are standing behind me, Though how do you get into this old track?” And there was no sound but the fall of a leaf As a sad response; and to keep down grief I would not turn my head to discover That there was nothing in my belief. Yet I wanted to look and see That nobody stood at the back of me; But I thought once more: “Nay, I’ll not unvision A shape which, somehow, there may be.” So I went on softly from the glade, And left her behind me throwing her shade, As she were indeed an apparition— My head unturned lest my dream should fade.” ― Thomas Hardy

“Any woman who’d ever lost a child knew of the hollowness that remained within the soul.”

“Any woman who’d ever lost a child knew of the hollowness that remained within the soul.” ― Brittainy C. Cherry

“You’d think I’d be used to this agony by now , but it always catches me off guard. Anyone who says grief fades over time is a fucking liar. It never goes away. It just gets better at hiding. You never know when it’s going to spring out of the shadows and sucker punch you in the gut. Grief is a real asshole.” ― Chelsea Sedoti

“We have already said more goodbyes than are necessary. Those were goodbyes that brought about the end of partings. We taught each other that no parting is possible.” ― Donna Goddard

“Mourning. At the death of the loved being, acute phase of narcissism: one emerges from sickness, from servitude. Then, gradually, freedom takes on a leaden hue, desolation settles in, narcissism gives way to a sad egoism, an absence of generosity.” ― Roland Barthes

“Ah, Momma. I had never looked at death before, peered into its yawning chasm for the face of a beloved. For days my mind staggered out of balance. I reeled on a precipice of knowledge that even if I were rich enough to travel all over the world, I would never find Momma. If I were as good as God’s angels and as pure as the Mother of Christ, I could never have Momma’s rough slow hands pat my cheek or braid my hair. Death to the young is more than that undiscovered country; despite its inevitability, it is a place having reality only in song or in other people's grief.” ― Maya Angelou

“Cooking is about surrender.” ― Tembi Locke

“...the only thing really worth doing in this life is giving love to everyone around you.” ― Claire Bidwell Smith

“Because honor still matters. Honor is what echoes." His father's words. But they are as empty on his lips as they feel in my ears. This was has taken everything from him. I see in his eyes how broken he is. how terribly hard he is trying to be his father's son. If he could, he would choose to be back by the campfire we made in the highlands of the Institute. He would return to the days of glory when life was simple, when friends seemed true. But wishing for the past doesn't clean the blood from either of our hands.” ― Pierce Brown

“The question of life being fair or unfair is one of the first things to drop away once you truly understand that you're as vulnerable as the next person to life's vagaries.” ― Leigh Sales

“Grief is a shape-shifter, it defies logic, sneaking up on you when you least expect it and leaving you empty-handed and hollow when you go searching for it.” ― Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen

“More than nakedness, for there is no cover to take. The fire in your eyes is ringed with water; wide and cool. We are far from the brutal place, but you do not think so. You take my hand and disappear like you were never there, except that I am now somewhere else.” ― Donna Goddard

“We’re all carrying our coffins with us every day.” Or “We are all constantly cheating death.” ― Edwidge Danticat

“You don't even have a cross," he said. His beloved was silent. "You don't even have any candles, no face of Christ, no tears. What can I say?" Then she began to murmur and he was astonished. "I'm sorry. I will believe in the eternity of souls, I am bereaved. I will see those places where death talks solemnly to the years, where the breakers roll over their sins and their regrets, where the valley of Heaven lies before the crag of immortality, and I will believe my mother has gained peace. I have lost her. Has anyone felt such terrible grief, known that for all earthly time the eyes shall never see, the heart never beat except with her shadow? What an unhappy loss, the candles are gutted, and the face wanes for this immortality. I have lost my mother." This was her only glimpse of Heaven, and she wept so much that he was afraid. Finally she held his hand. The two brothers fired the cannon at the burial.” ― John Hawkes

“Who could blame her for wanting the baby to be alive? His Irene still cried sometimes about young Billy, and it had been twenty years since he’d drowned as a tot. They’d had five more kids since then, but it was never far away, the sadness.” ― M.L. Stedman

“The first morning passed, and the first afternoon, then the first shift back at work. time takes it all, whether you want it to or not. Time takes it all, time bears it away, and in the end there is only darkness. Sometimes we find others in that darkness, and sometimes we lose them there again.” ― Stephen King

“People talked so foolishly, I thought, about the ennobling effects of suffering. No doubt the philosophy that tells you your soul grows through grief and sorrow is right--ultimately. But I don't think this is the case at first. At first, pain beyond a certain point merely makes you lifeless, and apathetic to everything but itself.” ― Vera Brittain

“Do not lie to yourself about the fact of death, choosing instead to become consumed by the psychological reaction to it—what we call grief.” ― Maryanne Pope

“Life makes beggars out of those who have joyful hearts, taxing the living with hardship and tribulation, but the charity of companionship, the currency of shared and unmitigated love, alleviates all disconsolation.” ― Michelle Franklin

“Somehow everything always came down to time, she realized with perfect lucidity. There was either too much or too little. It either passed too quickly or too slowly. It didn’t belong to anyone—it was simply a gift, bestowed by God, and yet eternally taken for granted. She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing Time could be tamed—reigned in—and tethered, synchronized with human needs and wants. But that wasn’t the case, was it?” ― R. W. Patterson

“On the first occasion Mrs Papagay had met her, there had been a discussion of the process of grief, and Mrs Jesse had nodded sagely, "I know that. I have felt that,' like a kind of tragic chorus. 'I have felt everything; I know everything. I don’t want any new emotion. I know what it is to feel like a stoan.” ― A.S. Byatt

“The true way to mourn the dead is to take care of the living—including yourself.” ― Misty Hayes

“You are not the load you carried for all those years, you are not the homeless heart adrift at sea, but you are the flowering youth passing through the winter to spring.....” ― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“If loving a man meant this pain and anguish and sickness, she wanted none of it. It did away with sanity and composure and made havoc of courage. She was a babbling child now when once she had been indifferent and strong.” ― Daphne du Maurier

“Death ends a life, but not a relationship.” ― Mitch Albom

“Letting myself fall wasn't easy. It wasn't hard either. It was a calling that I had to honour. I did honour. I took a plunge into my dark abyss. I faced my grief, my fear, my sadness, my loneliness, my anguish, myself. (Page 78)” ― Neena Verma

“For a long time, there was grief. It pulled me down into suffocating darkness, and kept me anchored there. I went through the motions. I turned up at school. I ate food and watched TV and took algebra tests. But I didn't feel anything. It was easier that way.” ― Lili Wilkinson

“That fall, after the summer when they both died, she and my father, there was a point when I wanted to say to them, All right, you have died, I know that, and you've been dead for a while, we have all absorbed this and we've explored the feelings we had at first, in reaction to it, surprising feelings, some of them, and the feelings we're having now that a few months have gone by--- but now it's time for you to come back. You have been away long enough.” ― Lydia Davis

“At night, with only the bedside lamp on, I would pretend to sleep and listened to Dad’s muffled crying in the semi-darkness, wishing that I could cry like him, that I could bring Stevan back from the dead by the strength of my tears. But they were regular tears carving the same slicing-hot trails down my cheeks, and in the end, I could not summon a distinct kind of grief for Stevan. Just the same grief that has gripped mankind for centuries, which time would inevitably ebb into a notch in one’s skin or a small limp in the way one walks or a bottled memory that would only resurface some nights. And soon, you’d struggle to remember how that person talked or how that person used to occupy a customized space in your life. And you don’t want to forget, but you don’t want to remember either, and there seemed to be no place where you could just exist.” ― V.J. Campilan

“She closed her eyes, trying to remember the photos that had hung on the walls. She had passed these pictures every day, but now she only remembered them vaguely--her parents on their wedding day, her mother in a garden, her family at Knott's Berry Farm. How had she not memorized them? Or maybe she had once but she was beginning to forget. Did the house smell different because her mother's scent was gone? Or had she just forgotten how her mother smelled?” ― Brit Bennett

“It's just a hard moment for him, a low point, not some soul-shaking crisis; you know those aren't sudden or public, they take years, worming inside you like a disease.” ― Stewart O'Nan

“The whole point of crying was to quit before you cornied it up. The whole point of grief itself was to cut it out while it was still honest, while it still meant something. Because the thing was so easily corrupted, let yourself go and you started embellishing your own sobs.” ― Richard Yates

“We don’t forget, but something vacant settles in us.”

“We don’t forget, but something vacant settles in us.” ― Roland Barthes

“One of the grubby truths about a loss is that you don't just mourn the dead person, you mourn the person you got to be when the lost one was alive. This loss might even be what affects you most.” ― Meghan O'Rourke

“Rejection is one of the worse forms of pain. Loss is the worst. Grief haunts until you allow yourself to move on.” ― Angelica Hopes

“And there’s also ‘To him that hath shall be given.’ After all, you must have a capacity to receive, or even omnipotence can’t give. Perhaps your own passion temporarily destroys the capacity.” ― C.S. Lewis

“Suffering invites us to place our hurts in larger hands. In Christ we see God suffering – for us. And calling us to share in God’s suffering love for a hurting world. The small and even overpowering pains of our lives are intimately connected with the greater pains of Christ. Our daily sorrows are anchored in a greater sorrow and therefore a larger hope.” ― Henri Nouwen

“O all you host of heaven!O Earth! waht else? And shall i couple hell? O Fie! Hold, hold, my heart And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee? Ay, thou poor ghost, while memmory holds a seat In this distracted globe. Remember thee? Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past That youth and observation copied there, And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmixed with baser matter; yes, by heaven!” ― William Shakespeare

“Her eyes were full of a hot liquid (she did not think of tears at first) which, without disturbing the firmness of her lips, made the air thick, rolled down her cheeks. She had perfect control of herself-Oh, yes!-in every other way.” ― Virginia Woolf

“It feels weird, being out in the real world again. Around people just living their lives like normal. Their presence is oppressive. The very fact that the world is going on as usual, like nothing ever happened, makes me want to scream. I know it's irrational to expect everything to grind to a halt because of June, but still. A wave of anxiety builds in my chest, my head pounding so loud it drowns out the noise of people talking and tapping away on their laptops.” ― Hannah Harrington

“Death. What a brief word for the extinguishing of life. To be no more. To have days cut off and at their end. To never again..........anything.” ― Richelle E. Goodrich

“I knew I was being an idiot. But I figured if I kept being an idiot, if I didn't actually accept the truth, then the truth would become false.” ― Sherman Alexie

“Dead. Even in the silence of my mind I cannot think the word. I cannot acknowledge

“Dead. Even in the silence of my mind I cannot think the word. I cannot acknowledge this most obvious and terrible of truths.” ― Melanie Cusick-Jones

“Listen, Harper. I realize how hard this is for you." A flash of anger heats up in my chest. She doesn't understand. She can't. If she did, she'd leave me alone instead of trying to force me to talk about this.” ― Hannah Harrington

“She did not know it, but she was actually in despair at the poverty of human emotions. Was it not irrational that there was nothing to do except weep when ten people died, just as one wept for but a single person?” ― Yukio Mishima

“I looked at the woman crying over the doll and felt something else. I was sick of people acting against their own interests. Mooing about how to refinance the slaughterhouse. Putting skylights in the killing pen and pretending the bolt in the brain was a pathway to a better field. I paid my bill. Save your fucking pennies for a gun and a history book, I thought.” ― Vanessa Veselka

“Adam pressed his hand to his face. Sighed. "Right. It's just that… He died. And I'm so freaking pissed off, I swear I'd punch him in the face if he were standing right here.” ― Kristina McBride

“Maybe Laney's right. Maybe June did love me. But I'm far less certain that she knew I loved her. Did she realise how much I needed her around? It's not like I ever told her. I was too wrapped up in my own world to notice what was going on in hers. Even if she did know, it wasn't enough to count. It wasn't enough to make her stay. So really, what did it matter, in the end? The bottom line is, it's my fault. I didn't love her enough. I didn't do enough. I wasn't enough. There's no excuse. There is nothing that will ever make that okay.” ― Hannah Harrington

“He looked very old. He looked, James thought, getting his head now against the Lighthouse, now against the waste of waters running away into the open, like some old stone lying on the sand; he looked as if he had become physically what was always at the back of both of their minds—that loneliness which was for both of them the truth about things.” ― Virginia Woolf

“Grief is a peculiar emotion.” ― Sebastian Faulks

“She felt the depth of her losses before they were realized, and she wondered, Is there still hope? Did she even dare hold on to such a tenuous thing as hope?” ― Sage Steadman

“Violent death erase[s] more than the semblance of life.” ― P. D. James

“Snapping shut his mobile, Dalgliesh reflected that murder, a unique crime for which no reparation is ever possible, imposes it own compulsions as well as it's conventions. He doubted whether Macklefield [the murder victim's Will attorney] would have interrupted his country weekend for a less sensational crime. As a young officer he, too, had been touched, if unwillingly and temporarily, by the power of murder to attract even while it appalled and repelled. He had watched how people involved as innocent bystanders, provided they were unburdened by grief or suspicion, were engrossed by homicide, drawn inexorably to the place where the crime had occurred in fascinated disbelief. The crowd and the media who served them had not yet congregated outside the wrought-iron gates of the Manor. But they would come, and he doubted whether Chandler-Powell's [owner of the Manor where the murder was committed] private security team would be able to do more than inconvenience them.” ― P.D. James

“She always used to suspect that the price for happiness, the price for enjoying the company of a person you loved, was the steadily increasing risk of losing them, and at times, when she considered the possibility that she might lose Isabel or Clancy or, in the early days, Todd, Bernice didn't think she could stand it, didn't think she could go on living in a universe whose laws forced her to submit to such a terrible fear. Now she sees what a small price it is to pay, what staggering joy she received in return. You should be willing to pay that price for as little as a few days or hours with a person you love, she thinks, rubbing her fingers across a patch of linoleum the years have worn down to a cloudy smear.” ― Stephen Lovely

“Mid-Term Break I sat all morning in the college sick bay Counting bells knelling classes to a close. At two o'clock our neighbours drove me home. In the porch I met my father crying— He had always taken funerals in his stride— And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow. The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram When I came in, and I was embarrassed By old men standing up to shake my hand And tell me they were 'sorry for my trouble'. Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest, Away at school, as my mother held my hand In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs. At ten o'clock the ambulance arrived With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses. Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him For the first time in six weeks. Paler now, Wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple, He lay in the four-foot box as in his cot. No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear. A four-foot box, a foot for every year.” ― Seamus Heaney

“In the library I search for a good book. We have many books, says Mrs. Rose, the librarian, and ALL of them are good. Of course she says that. It's her job. But do I want to read about Trucks Trains and Transport? Or even Horses Houses and Hyenas? In the fiction corner there are pink boks full of princesses and girls who want to be princesses and black books about bad boys and brave boys and brawny boys. Where is the book about a girl whose poems don't rhyme and whose Granny is fading? Pearl, says Mrs. Rose, the bell has rung. I go back to class empty-handed empty headed empty-hearted.” ― Sally Murphy

“It had been many months since I'd shed tears for Tomaso, but grief is like that. It's not a continuous process; it comes in waves. You can keep it at bay for a time, like a dam holding back a lake, but them something triggers an explosion inside of you, shattering the wall and letting loose a flood.” ― Paul Adam

“I think grief and fear are going to come to him suddenly. They'll be undiluted and words won't work. We're all going to get hit and won't know how to hit back. I wish I knew the answers, how to help myself and the people who will hurt all around me.” ― Kaui Hart Hemmings

“...y vi, mientras Samuel daba el atrevido paso de besar a Lindsey delante de toda la familia, que emprendían por fin el vuelo, alejándose de mi muerte.” ― Alice Sebold

“For in this world of ours where everything withers, everything perishes, there is a thing that decays, that crumbles into dust even more completely, leaving behind still fewer traces of itself, than beauty: namely grief.” ― Marcel Proust

“Harsh, bitter laughs exploded from her like shrapnel, and she didn’t care who was cut in the process.” ― Katherine McIntyre

“The fairest things have fleetest end, Their scent survives their close:

“The fairest things have fleetest end, Their scent survives their close: But the rose's scent is bitterness To her who loved the rose.” ― Francis Thompson

“The sunlight now lay over the valley perfectly still. I went over to the graveyard beside the church and found them under the old cedars... I am finding it a little hard to say that I felt them resting there, but I did. I felt their completeness as whatever they had been in the world. I knew I had come there out of kindness, theirs and mine. The grief that came to me then was nothing like the grief I had felt for myself alone... This grief had something in it of generosity, some nearness to joy. In a strange way it added to me what I had lost. I saw that, for me, this country would always be populated with presences and absences, presences of absences, the living and the dead. The world as it is would always be a reminder of the world that was, and of the world that is to come.” ― Wendell Berry

“Before I lost my father, I never understood the rituals surrounding funerals: the wake, the service itself, the reception afterward,the dinners prepared by well-meaning friends and delivered in plastic containers, even the popular habit of making poster boards filled with photos of the dear departed. But now I know why we do those things. It's busywork, all of it. I had so much to take care of, so many arrangements to make, so many people to inform, I didn't have a moment to be engulfed by the ocean of grief that was lapping at my heels. Instead, I waded through the shallows, performing task after task, grateful to have duties to propel me forward.” ― Wendy Webb

“And his good wife will tear her cheeks in grief, his sons are orphans and he, soaking the soil red with his own blood, he rots away himself—more birds than women flocking round his body!” ― Homer

“I am not functioning very well. Living with the knowledge that the baby is dead is painful. I feel so far away from you, God. I can only try to believe that you are sustaining me and guiding me through this. Please continue to stand by my side.” ― Christine O'Keeffe Lafser

“…and they limp and halt, they’re all wrinkled, drawn, they squint to the side, can’t look you in the eyes, and always bent on duty, trudging after Ruin, maddening, blinding Ruin. But Ruin is strong and swift—She outstrips them all by far, stealing a march, leaping over the whole wide earth to bring mankind to grief.” ― Homer

“She lost much of her appetite. At night, an invisible hand kept shaking her awake every few hours. Grief was physiological, a disturbance of the blood. Sometimes a whole minute would pass in nameless dread - the bedside clock ticking, the blue moonlight coating the window like glue - before she`d remember the brutal fact that had caused it.” ― Jeffrey Eugenides

“When a man's eyes are sore his friends do not let him finger them, however much he wishes to, nor do they themselves touch the inflammation: But a man sunk in grief suffers every chance comer to stir and augment his affliction like a running sore; and by reason of the fingering and consequent irritation it hardens into a serious and intractable evil.” ― Plutarch

“Samo si mene imao, osim onih grobova kod kuće, sad više nikog nemamo ni ti ni ja, ti si mene izgubio prije nego ja tebe, ili možda nisi, možda si mislio da stojim pred ovom okovanom kapijom, kao što bi ti stajao zbog mene, možda si se do posljednjeg časa nadao da ću ti pomoći, i kamo sreće da si mi toliko vjerovao, ne bi te uhvatio strah od konačne samoće, kad nas svi napuste. A ako si sve znao, neka mi Bog pomogne.” ― Meša Selimović

“My soule, poore soule thou talkes of things/ Thou knowest not what, my soule hath sliver wings,/ That mounts me up unto the highest heavens.” ― Thomas Kyd

“I transform "Work" in its analytic meaning (the Work of Mourning, the Dream-Work) into the real "Work" - of writing.) for: the "Work" by which (it is said) we emerge from the great crises (love, grief) cannot be liquidated hastily: for me, it is accomplished only in and by writing.” ― Roland Barthes

“-(I)n memory, remorse wraps the self.” ― Claudia Rankine

“Royal summoned mourners. They came from the village, from the neighboring hills and, wailing like dogs at midnight, laid siege to the house. Old women beat their heads against the walls, moaning men prostrated themselves: it was the art of sorrow, and those who best mimicked grief were much admired. After the funeral everyone went away, satisfied that they'd done a good job.” ― Truman Capote

“Laine taped the last box shut. That was it, then: All of Gavin's belongings put away; some for charity, some for the dump, some to be saved for a happier 'one day' that Laine felt, right now, was as distant as the stars.” ― Stephen M. Irwin

“Mr. Lisbon knew his parental and neighborly duty entailed putting the retainer in a Ziploc bag, calling the Kriegers, and telling them their expensive orthodontal device was in safe keeping. Acts like theses -- simple, humane, conscientious, forgiving -- held life together. Only a few days earlier he would have been able to perform them. But now he took the retainer and dropped it in the toiler. He pressed the handle. The retainer, jostled int he surge, disappeared down the porcelain throat, and, when waters abated, floated triumphantly, mockingly, out, Mr. Lisbon waited for the tank to refill and flushed again, but the same thing happened. The replica of the boy's mouth clung to the white slope.” ― Jeffrey Eugenides

“for my grief's so great That no supporter but the huge firm earth Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit; Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. (Constance, from King John, Act III, scene 1)” ― William Shakespeare

“. . . I understand that I was writing (recording) as well as seeking to right (to rectify) the wrong, and now, as I retell the tale, I realize that ‘I am still at the same subject’ still engaged in the same fearful and fierce activity–writing and seeking to right a mortal wrong. (86-87)” ― Sandra M. Gilbert

“It is poor solace to speak of the passing of time and grief," the master said. His quiet voice had gone somehow bleak, though Araene could not decide where in his unchanging tone the difference lay. "We do not wish our grief to fade, for it marks the love and honor in which we held our lost kinsmen. Nevertheless, permit me to assure you that while you may find peace a barren desert, yet eventually it may bloom.” ― Rachel Neumeier

“Death seemed to lose its terrors and to borrow a grace and dignity in sublime keeping with the life that was ebbing away.” ― Charles Bracelen Flood

“No point carrying useless ballast. It won't change a thing.” ― Joanne Harris

“In this way unwittingly the Widow-to-Be is assuring her husband’s death—his doom. Even as she believes she is behaving intelligently—“shrewdly” and “reasonably”—she is taking him to a teeming petri dish of lethal bacteria where within a week he will succumb to a virulent staph infection—a “hospital” infection acquired in the course of his treatment for pneumonia. Even as she is fantasizing that he will be home for dinner she is assuring that he will never return home. How unwitting, all Widows-to-Be who imagine that they are doing the right thing, in innocence and ignorance!” ― Joyce Carol Oates

“We're not going to make it," I said. The words caught in my throat, choking me. What was it Leslie had said to me when we were discussing Shannon's and Antoinetta's disappearance? 'You're beginning to sound like one of the characters in your books, Adam.' She'd been right. If this were a novel my heroes would have arrived just in the nick of time and saved the day. But real life didn't work like that. Real life had no happy endings. Despite our best efforts, despite my love for Tara [his wife] and my determination to protect her, and after everything we'd been through at the LeHorn house, fate conspired against us. We were still nine or ten miles from home, and night was almost upon us. By the time we got there it would already be too late. I fought back tears. I had the urge just to lie down in the middle of the road and let the next car run over me.” ― Brian Keene

“She felt that at some point she must finally and formally talk to Louisa about Hubert, and ask her to acknowledge that the worst possible thing had happened to her as well.” ― Alan Hollinghurst

“Since she seen Fortune head in that big pot Miss Lydia say that room make her feel ill, sick with the thought of boiling human broth. I wonder how she think it make me feel? To dust the hands what use to stroke my breast; to dust the arms what hold me when I cried; to dust where his soft lips were and his chest what curved its warm against my back at night. From the poem "Dinah's Lament" (15)” ― Marilyn Nelson

“An Elegy A thousand times must we deplore The lost will never come to life again; Even as flowing water runs away, Returning nevermore. Lady Kanin” ― Reiko Chiba

“Kenny rested his hand on my leg, patting it delicately. His thoughts staying just that, thoughts, as we drove in silence, back to my prison of paradise, back to the one place I knew I could be happy, yet miserable, all in the same day.” ― Holly Hood

“We talk about how he and Leanne are doing knowing full well there is no sufficient answer. p 294” ― Michael Perry

“Grown-ups now, we occupy our concrete paths, little griefs buzzing around our ears like mosquitos. We swat them away. We turn our heads, swallowing our sadness whole.” ― Jenny Noble Anderson

“We all grieve as we have lived. For example, emotionally expressive people might become more expressive, those who don’t show feelings openly may appear even more contained. Problems may occur when others try to force us to behave in ways that are comfortable for them, and not expressions of who we are.” ― Mal McKissock

“But sometimes his face would change, as if sorrow touched his shoulder, saying,

“But sometimes his face would change, as if sorrow touched his shoulder, saying, “Had you forgotten me?” ― Mary Renault

The artist is only visiting pain, imagining it. We praise the artist, not the apple, not the apple's shadow, which is murdered slowly. There must be some way of drawing a picture so that it doesn't become an elegy.” ― Victoria Chang

“When we lose someone we love and we also lose a part of ourselves, it's something more. When who we have lost is so deeply connected to who we are, when we are inextricably linked not only to a person but to our connection to them, the loss of our relationship is often a loss of our own self. That is why such loss stretches beyond being heartbroken to being soulbroken.” ― Stephanie Sarazin

“To be soulbroken is to be filled with anguish that is brought on by the loss of our love, our relationship, and ourselves, and, often it is void of validation. If you know this pain, my deepest sympathies to you, not only for your loss but for how you've been hurting.” ― Stephanie Sarazin

“Feelings, emotions, experiences, are all part of humanity's shared language, and in Linghun, that shared language is grief. Grief is a language that tears us apart, but it is also what brings us together. Remember, you are never alone.” ― Ai Jiang

“My Mom was a little religious, my Dad not at all. So when she was killed--and my Dad was left in a coma--I didn't have a strong foundation of faith to turn to. By the time my father was killed-then so many of my friends--all I had left to turn to was anger. It was easier than believing in a God who had let that happen.” ― Ariel Thomas

“My Mom was a little religious, my Dad not at all. So when she was killed--and my Dad was left in a coma--I didn’t have a strong foundation of faith to turn to. By the time my father was killed—then so many of my friends--all I had left to turn to was anger. It was easier than believing in a God who had let that happen. But anger solved little and when the world was in crisis--I prayed. I heard only silence. So I confessed my sins… and realized I had none. How could someone who tried so hard to be good--did so much for so many people--be asked to endure so much?” ― Fabian Nicieza

“It’s not that I normally avoid thinking about my Mom. I think about her every day, of course, and feel how much I miss her. But I always make sure not to wade in above my chest.” ― Jon Lewis

“I couldn’t handle the sudden rush of emotions. You couldn’t handle any emotions. We made quite the pair.” ― Ariel Thomas

“I explained that I was just sad about my sister being dead—she used to be alive, see, and now she isn't anymore, and it just really came through in the last part of the slideshow for me... And he gently pointed out that I'd been crying significantly louder than anybody else, which I felt sort of proud of, but also ashamed of.” ― Allie Brosh

“When my mother dies, I will lead her like a dog into the space between our walls which is just like the space between here and always, the king and the kingdom. I will lead her by the hand if she be blind and I will wag my tail against her knees if she be afraid. And I will leave her at the gate. Life on earth will in some ways be easier. I will not have to return her phone calls. I will not have to feel guilty when I want to hear no more, no more about the divorce. I won't cry though I will want to cry, though I will hate myself for not crying. When my mother dies if I am still alive, I will slouch on my knees as though in prayer. I will write one or two poems. Then I will no longer think of her.” ― Neil Hilborn

“For months, maybe years, everytime you see her you will want to kiss her. When you do you will expect pain to come, like the old dog you could never quite put down, but there will be none. You will remind yourself, she will remind you, you will remind each other that this is for the best. That you are physically incapable of loving one another. And in those moments you will be lying. Your heart screaming, "I can! I can! I can!" But you will stay silent because of her, because she asked for this, because she filled something in you thats still full even though she's gone.” ― Neil Hilborn

“It happens to everyone around you, to all the people left standing at your funeral, trying to figure out how they’re going to now live the rest of their lives without you in it.” ― Sheriff Stilinski

“For some grief is an illness, an infection. But for others, a lucky few, it is a dust, and if you can survive that initial storm when the sky turns black and dirt falls in great clumps from the sky, if you can do that and just hang on, you will discover something. The dust left behind by grief is really soil, richer and deeper than any you could find on this earth. Collect it, gather it gently together inside of you and wait. In the same way a great tree must first take seed and then be given space to grow, the memory of those you have lost seeks a place to put down roots. Give grief time and in turn it will give you what you seek. A place for the memory of your loved one to reside inside you for the rest of your days. That is the purpose of grief.” ― Philip Allen Green

“No one loves you like your mom and no one hurts you like your mom.” ― Amy Schumer

“I had only silence in my head. Only silence, as I began screaming. Screaming and screaming and screaming. The emptiness in my chest, my soul at the lack of that bond, that life- I was shaking him, screaming his name and shaking him, and my body stopped being my body and just became this thing that held me and this lack of him, and I could not stop screaming and screaming-” ― Sarah J. Maas

“I would have rather the world ended than this, this thing he had done and this emptiness where he was, where we were-” ― Sarah J. Maas

“I'm sorry.' It was those two words that shattered me. Shattered me in a way I didn't know I could still be broken, a rending of every tether and leash. Stay with the High Lord. The Suriel's last warning. Stay... and live to see everything righted. A lie. A lie, as Rhys had lied to me. Stay with the High Lord. Stay. For there... the torn scraps of the mating bond. Floating on a phantom wind inside me. I grasped at them- tugged at them, as if he'd answer. Stay. Stay, stay, stay. I clung to those scraps and remnants, clawing at the voice that lurked beyond. Stay. I looked up at Tarquin, lip curling back from my teeth. Looked at Helion. And Thesan. And Beon and Kallias, Viviane weeping at his side. And I snarkled, 'Bring him back.' Blank faces. I screamed at them, 'BRING HIM BACK.' Nothing. 'You did it for me,' I said, breathing hard. 'Now do it for him.' 'You were human,' Helion said carefully. 'It is not the same-' 'I don't care. Do it.' When they didn't move, I rallied the dregs of my power, readying to rip into their minds and force them, not caring what rules or laws it broke. I wouldn't care, only if- Tarquin stepped forward. He slowly extended his hand toward me. 'For what he gave,' Tarquin said quietly. 'Today and for many years before.' And as the seed of light appeared in his palm... I began crying again. Watched it drop onto Rhys's bare throat and vanish onto the skin beneath, an echo of light flaring once. Helion stepped forward. That kernel of light in his hand flickered as it fell onto Rhys's skin. Then Kallias. And Thesan. Until only Beron stood there. Mor drew her sword and laid it on his throat. He jerked, having not seen her move. 'I do not mind making one more kill today,' she said. Beron gave her a withering glare, but shoved off the sword and strode forward. He practically chucked that fleck of light onto Rhys. I didn't care about that, either. I didn't know the spell, the power it came from. But I was High Lady. I held out my palm. Willing the spark of life to appear. Nothing happened. I took a steadying breath, remembering how it had looked. 'Tell me how,' I growled to no one. Thesan coughed and stepped forward. Explaining the core of power and on and on and I didn't care, but I listened, until- There. Small as a sunflower seed, it appeared in my palm. A bit of me- my life. I laid it gently on Rhys's blood-crusted throat. And I realised, just as he appeared, what was missing. Tamlin stood there, summoned by either the death of a fellow High Lord or one of the others around me. He was splattered in mud and gore, his new bandolier of knives mostly empty. He studied Rhys, lifeless before me. Studied all of us- the palms still out. There was no kindness on his face. No mercy. 'Please,' was all I said to him. Then Tamlin glanced between us- me and my mate. His face did not change. 'Please,' I wept. 'I will- I will give you anything-' Something shifted in his eyes at that. But not kindness. No emotion at all. I laid my head on Rhysand's chest, listening for any kind of heartbeat through that armour. 'Anything,' I breathed to no one in particular. 'Anything.' Steps scuffed on the rocky ground. I braced myself for another set of hands trying to pull me away, and dug my fingers in harder. The steps remained behind me for long enough that I looked. Tamlin stood there. Staring down at me. Those green eyes swimming with some emotion I couldn't place. 'Be happy, Feyre,' he said quietly. And dropped that final kernel of light onto Rhysand.” ― Sarah J. Maas

“Their mother said their father had a morning routine.” ― Kajoch

“Those that experience loss too often become lost themselves.”

“Those that experience loss too often become lost themselves.” ― Trent Lindsey

“Life becomes magical when our memories evoke all of the moments of joy rather than that one final moment when our loved one died.” ― Angie Corbett-Kuiper

“THE ONES WE LOSE The ones we lose Take more than themselves with them As they leave, they steal parts of you That you will never grow back Like a tree pruned too much Your blossoms are fruitless But you will heal No matter if it was peaceful, Senseless, Violent Show me your hands When you leave I want to see the parts of me that also disappear” ― Trisha North

“The sign from your loved one, in itself, will not be significant. It becomes significant when you become aware of its message.” ― Angie Corbett-Kuiper

“Everything living ends in death. It is everywhere, in every person's life, but what makes every story different from the rest is how that person decides to deal with the pain of losing the one they love.” ― Mehded Maryam Sinclair

“Bereavement is sometimes like wading across a succession of snowfields with no landmark in sight. You are a lone small figure in a vast barren landscape. Other times it’s like a Ferris wheel ride. Like being strapped into a swinging spinning bucket. The dizzying dislocation from familiar grounded reality.” ― Glenn Haybittle

“She must miss him, doesn't she? Doesn't the whole world? Sometimes when it rains, I imagine it as the earth crying for him.” ― Amanda Linsmeier

“No, her father was ashes in the wind, his existence marked only by a headstone on a hill outside the city. Or so her sisters had told her. I loved you from the first moment I held you in my arms, her father had said to her in those last moments together. Don't lay your filthy hands on my daughter. Those had been his final words, spat at the King of Hybern. Her father had squandered those final words on that worm of a king. Her father. The man who had never fought for his children, not until the end. When he had come to save them- to save the humans and the Fae, yes, but most of all, his daughters. Her. A grand, stupid waste. Unholy dark power flowed through her, and it had not been enough to stop the King of Hybern from snapping his neck. She had hated her father, hated him deeply, and yet he had loved her, for some inexplicable reason. Not enough to try to spare them from poverty or keep them from starving. But somehow it had been enough for him to raise an army on the continent. To sail a ship named for her into battle. She had still hated her father in those last moments. And then his neck had cracked, his eyes not full of fear as he died, but of that foolish love for her. That was what had lingered- the look in his eyes. The resentment in her heart as he died for her. It had festered, gnawing at her like the power she buried deep, running rampant through her head until no icy baths could numb it away. She could have saved him. It was the King of Hybern's fault. She knew that. But it was hers, too. Just as it was her fault that Elain had been captured by the Cauldron after Nesta spied on it with that scrying, her fault that Hybern had done such terrible things to hunt her and her sisters down like a deer. Some days, the sheer dread and panic locked Nesta's body up so thoroughly that nothing could get her to breathe. Nothing could stop the awful power from beginning to rise, rise, rise in her. Nothing beyond the music at those taverns, the card games with strangers, the endless bottles of wine, and the sex that made her feel nothing- but offered a moment of release amid the roaring inside her.” ― Sarah J. Maas

“Her rage pumped through her, so loud Nesta could barely hear the real fire before which her sister paced. Was glad of the roaring in her head when the sound of wood cracking as it burned was so much like her father's breaking neck that she couldn't stand to light a fire in her own home.” ― Sarah J. Maas

“Do you know I almost died? In fact,” she turns to look at me, “I am dead.” “Don’t.” “Oh yes. I’m a ghost now, Samantha. I died of a broken heart. I died of grief. It’s in the autopsy. And it’s all your fault.” ― Mona Awad

“if people appeared to behave pointlessly in grief, it was only because human life what pointless, and this was the truth that grief revealed” - marianne from normal people” ― Sally Rooney

“His hazel eyes guttered. 'Not eating won't bring your father back.' 'This has nothing to do with this,' she hissed. 'Nothing.' He braced his forearms on the table. 'We're going to cut the bullshit. You think I haven't gone through what you're dealing with? You think I haven't seen and done and felt all that before? And seen those I love deal with it , too? You aren't the first, and you won't be the last. What happened to your father was terrible, Nesta, but-' She shot to her feet. 'You don't know anything.' She couldn't stop the shaking that overtook her. From rage or something else, she didn't know. She balled her hands into fists. 'Keep your fucking opinions to yourself.' He blinked at the profanity., at that she guessed was the white-hot rage crinkling her face. And then he said, 'Who taught you to curse?' She squeezed her fists harder. 'You lost. You have the filthiest mouths I've ever heard.' Cassian's eyes narrowed with amusement, but his mouth remained a thin line. 'I'll keep my fucking opinions to myself if you eat.' She threw every bit of venom she could muster into her gaze. He only waited. Unmovable as the mountain into which the House had been built.” ― Sarah J. Maas

“I considered letting my own meltdown come to the surface, but I had no way of knowing how long it would last once I let it, so I didn't. I put it in the black well instead, backing away so I wouldn't fall in.” ― Biffy James

“Maybe it was better to accept that when someone died there were some things that were never going to happen, and this was just another one of them. Because death left things unfinished. Unsaid. Unsewn. And it sucked.” ― Biffy James

“Women endure. That’s what we do.” “That’s nonsense,” she replied more harshly than I expected. “A woman is more than a vessel meant to carry babies and grief.” ― Shelley Read

“It's so cruel... that grief comes part and parcel with love. It's just so unfair.” ― Genevieve Wheeler

“No boy has ever moved me the way you did that afternoon on the corniche. This is not how I am supposed to feel. The lack of you hurts. You are the knife with which I cut myself.” ― Zeyn Joukhadar

“Before you died, I learned about death from Jiddo, whom I was never close with but whose death taught me that someday even our family will be gone. After that I held each of your hugs just a second longer, even when I would have rather been doing something else, because someday you'll be gone and I would wish I could go back to those moments. But now you are gone, and your absence hurts too much for me to think about those hugs, those games, those afternoons watering your plants. It's been five years, and time hasn't healed any wounds. You are all I think about some days, and yet I can't bear to remember the way things used to be.” ― Zeyn Joukhadar

“Neither widowed nor orphaned by the war, but still half dead for being alive, for having lost so much.”

“Neither widowed nor orphaned by the war, but still half dead for being alive, for having lost so much.” ― Angélique Villeneuveneuve

“God, I hope my head is not off. I hope nobody has to find my head. I hope my family doesn't have to live with that image for the rest of their lives.” ― Jayne Tuttle

“Grief is a river you wade in until you get to the other side. But I am here, stuck in the middle, water parting around my ankles, moving downstream over the flat rocks. I'm not able to lift a foot, move on. Instead, I'm going to stay here in the shallows with my sorrow, nurture it like a cranky baby, rock it in my arms. I don't want it to grow up, go to school, get married. It's mine. Yes, the October sunlight wraps me in its yellow shawl, and the air is sweet as a golden Tokay. On the other side, there are apples, grapes, walnuts, and the rocks are warm from the sun. But I'm going to stand here, growing colder, until every inch of my skin is numb. I can't cross over. Then you really will be gone.” ― Barbara Crooker

“Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields. And we will sit upon the Rocks, Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow Rivers to whose falls Melodious birds sing Madrigals. And I will make thee beds of Roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of Myrtle; A gown made of the finest wool Which from our pretty Lambs we pull; Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold; A belt of straw and Ivy buds, With Coral clasps and Amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love. The Shepherds’ Swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May-morning: If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me, and be my love.” ― Christopher Marlowe

“No one knew how he continued to do what he did, while simultaneously they wanted him to shut all signs of his grief away, place it in a file somewhere and tuck it in a drawer that no one would be asked to open again.” ― Alice Sebold

“I don't think, for instance, that you can invoke a Protestant ethic when it comes to loss. You can't say, "Oh, I'll go through loss this way, and that will be the result, and I'll apply myself to the aks, and I'll endeavor to achieve the resolution of grief that is before me." I think that one is hit by waves, and that one starts out the day with an aim, a project, a plan, and one finds oneself foiled.” ― Judith Butler

“But now I know I was simply not cut out for life without her. I am living that life now and

“But now I know I was simply not cut out for life without her. I am living that life now and would not choose it.” ― Ann Patchett

“It’s weird. Sometimes it feels like we’re still the ones in the pictures, and everything that happened after happened to other people. And then sometimes we’re the other people, and the strangers are in the frames.” ― Emma Mills

“Change is also loss, and in that sense a parent can lose a child every day, until you realise that you'd better stop predicting what they're going to become and concentrate on what is right in front of you.” ― Rachel Cusk

“To love, it is to prepare yourself / to be abandoned.” ― Maram Al-Masri

“...there was no place as unknown as grief.” ― Louise Erdrich

“There is that poem. Scott Holland, I think. How does it go? ‘I have only slipped away into the next room’…or something. Yes. ‘I have only slipped away into the next room. I am I and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.” ― Poppy Alexander

“Afterward, I would mourn her as if she'd died, because something had: someone we had created together.” ― Carmen Maria Machado

“Until now I had been able only to grieve, not mourn. Grief was passive. Grief happened. Mourning, the act of dealing with grief, required attention.” ― Joan Didion

“My head feels the way watercolor looks when it bleeds.”

“My head feels the way watercolor looks when it bleeds.” ― Marisa Crane

“Here I was thinking my tears might move her enough to forgive me for not turning my body into a home.” ― Marisa Crane

“Our ghosts hide in the things we leave behind.” ― Cath Crowley

“I find myself absorbing your traits. I eat the foods you like and I use your favourite words. I say our jokes to myself. And I've come up with some new ones for us too.” ― Katy Wix

“Sorrow felt selfish.” ― Kevin Jared Hosein

“When I was back at the Spring Court...' I swallowed. 'I looked- for their wings.' Rhys went utterly still, and I took his hand, squeezing hard as he only said, 'Did you find them?' The words were barely a brush of air. I shook my head, but said before the grief on his face could grow, 'I learned that he burned them- long ago.' Rhys said nothing for a lingering moment, his attention returning to the stars. 'Thank you for even thinking- for risking to look for them.' The only trace- the horrific remnants- of his mother and sister. 'I didn't... I'm glad he burned them,' Rhys admitted. 'I could happily kill him, for so many things, and yet...' He rubbed his chest. 'I'm glad he offered them that peace, at least.” ― Sarah J. Maas

“What does the sky do when the moon is gone forever?” ― Rajani LaRocca

“Grief is like a deep, dark hole. It calls like a siren: Come to me, lose yourself here. And you fight it and you fight it and you fight it, but when you finally do succumb and jump down into it, you can't quite believe how deep it is. It feels as if this is how you will live for the rest of your life, falling. Terrified and devastated until you die.” ― Taylor Jenkins Reid

“Once you have known true grief, you don’t get better. You don’t recover – you only grow stronger. You learn to bear the things that seem unbearable. You find a way to rebuild yourself, even with crucial pieces missing.” ― M.K. Lobb

“I haven't seen that apron on anyone in so long; even Gran herself was too ill to use it in her final months. And to see it become three-dimensional, to see a body give it shape again... I don't know why, but it makes me look away.” ― Nita Prose

“Fresh drops of grief do not cause any ripple in an ocean of anguish.”

“Fresh drops of grief do not cause any ripple in an ocean of anguish.” ― Amish Tripathi

“Men like myself cannot see anything beyond our own pain. Our eyes are inward-facing, mesmerized by the sight of our own broken hearts.” ― Alix E. Harrow

“Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom-- Which, unreversed, stands in effectual force-- A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears” ― William Shakespeare

“The Center for Complicated Grief at Columbia is another tremendous resource. Their definitions are very helpful when thinking about grief. I think the most important line is "When a person adapts to a loss grief is not over." It doesn't mean that we're sad the rest of our lives, it means that "grief finds a place" in our lives. Imagine a world in which we honor that place in ourselves and others rather than hiding it, ignoring it, or pretending it doesn't exist.” ― Brené Brown

“Knowing we are valuable to God means we will care for wounds as we discover them. It means we will submit to the whole healing process, even the painful parts that feel like antiseptic or physical therapy. It means we will not pretend hard things don't hurt or emotions aren't real or death doesn't sting. It means we will weep when we're sad, laugh when we feel joy, have silence when we don't have words, and shout when it's right. It means we will acknowledge our own grief and attend to it. It means each generation becomes a little more healed and whole as we go, until the whole world is reconciled to Christ in wholeness.” ― Lore Ferguson Wilbert

“I don't want to hurt anymore. I just want to understand.” ― Emma Lord

“I start crying. I put that wedding ring on him myself, my hand shaking while his was steady as a rock.” ― Taylor Jenkins Reid

“During the pandemic, I couldn’t bring myself to leave the house, terrified I would find myself standing in the doorway of an ICU room, watching the doctors press their whole weight on the chest of my mother, my sisters, my children, terrified of the lurch of their feet, the lurch that accompanies each press that restarts the heart, the jerk of their pale, tender soles, terrified of the frantic prayer without intention that keens through the mind, the prayer for life that one says in the doorway, the prayer I never want to say again, the prayer that dissolves midair when the hush-click-hush-click of the ventilator drowns it, terrified of the terrible commitment at the heart of me that reasons that if the person I love has to endure this, then the least I can do is stand there, the least I can do is witness, the least I can do is tell them over and over again, aloud, I love you. We love you. We ain’t going nowhere.” ― Jesmyn Ward

“I thought about having a child, naming it after you. Then I realized that child would never know its namesake & that it’s not fair to want someone just because you want someone else. Instead I named other things for you: seasons with the most holidays, the sky’s face seven seconds before or after it hails, the sound a heart hears when it is half returned, the first time I won a fight, anytime I lose anything.” ― Siaara Freeman

“After the funeral, I see him everywhere. Every time a man is shot in the head. I see him between the couch cushions. The blunt’s end, in Jamaica drinking a Red Stripe on a patch of grass, in a backyard drunk with witches dancing to Motown. Screaming from my mouth. In my lupus diagnosis. Laying in the cracks of my knuckles. Knock, knock, who’s there?” ― Siaara Freeman

“We have free will, and with that comes great responsibility. And sometimes great loss.” ― HaroldFinch

“Yet on each occasion these pleas for his presence served to reinforce my awareness of the final silence that separated us.” ― Joan Didion

“It’s not an identical pain that we all meet one day when death finds us. It’s a monster, personalized by our love and memories to devour us just so. Grief is suffering, tailored.” ― Tracy Deonn

“He feels he is in the torture chamber but he knows that one day he will find the door out, because it is he who has the key.” ― Hilary Mantel

“Yeah, Bug. It’s only been a few months since Jules died. And I know you’re doing better, but grief is like the ocean. Sometimes it’s just lapping quietly at your toes and ankles while you walk along, but other times, a huge wave will come out of nowhere and pull you under.” ― Lizzy Mason

“It hasn’t been that long since Jules died—a little more than four months now. Sometimes it feels like it was yesterday. Sometimes it feels like it’s been a year. But it only takes a moment to remember how it felt to hear that she was gone. And I know that pain will linger forever.” ― Lizzy Mason

“A friend told me once that grief is the cost of love,” she says. “It’s a pretty steep price, but it’s worth paying. Because the love doesn’t go away either.” ― Lizzy Mason

“Some days I wake up and I want to eradicate every single thing of his from my life. I want to erase every single memory and all our history. And then every other day I pray that I’ll never ever forget him.” ― Marley Valentine

“He turned his eyes on me then, and spoke to me in a silken whisper that seemed to fall

“He turned his eyes on me then, and spoke to me in a silken whisper that seemed to fall upon my grief like a comforting shawl.” ― Geraldine Brooks

“Yet one more word. Grief boundeth where it falls, Not with the empty hollowness, but weight. I take my leave before I have begun, For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done.” ― William Shakespeare

“It seemed like the only voice Mama had left spoke in Arabic. Even when the neighbor ladies brought casseroles and white carnations, Mama swallowed her words. How come people only ever have one language for grief?” ― Zeyn Joukhadar

“I miss home with an angry hunger, even though home is an imaginary place now.” ― Zeyn Joukhadar

“But nobody ever says it. Does it make it easier to live with loss if you don't name it? Or is that something you do as a mercy for other people?” ― Zeyn Joukhadar

“I wonder if almost can cost you as much as did, if the real wound is the moment you understand you can do nothing.” ― Zeyn Joukhadar

“There is no doubt that I have discovered the ultimate in stagnant human societies. The Bikura have realized the human dream of immortality and have paid for it with their humanity and their immortal souls.” ― Dan Simmons

“Grief is a weird thing, Percy, because no two people experience it the same.”

“Grief is a weird thing, Percy, because no two people experience it the same.” ― Adalyn Grace

“The truth was, you have no idea how you’ll handle grief until it presents itself.”

“The truth was, you have no idea how you'll handle grief until it presents itself.” ― Margot Hunt

“To Beth, there isn’t an illness or sour mood that cats or a walk in the garden can’t heal.” ― Marina Hill

“You turn your head and smile at me. I smile back in the tired way the living have of appeasing the dead. How are you supposed to smile at a ghost without feeling lonely?” ― Zeyn Joukhadar

“This was a back that had carried the pain of others until it had become impossible for her bones to unbend themselves, like certain saplings will become permanently twisted under the force of windstorms. I thought of Hawa, whether it was this slow bending she had tried to escape with her linen wings, and whether there was any mercy in the world for those who decline to carry the burdens they are assigned to carry. My mother's back and mine were made from the same mold. Our spines were fashioned for bearing and bending and bowing and burying. Our backs had been honed over generations for the thankless labor of woman. They had never been made for wings.” ― Zeyn Joukhadar

“You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.” ― Anne Lamott

“The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we'd done were less real and important than they had been hours before.” ― John Green

“God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of "parties" with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter - they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship - but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering.” ― Sylvia Plath

“The worst type of crying wasn't the kind everyone could see--the wailing on street corners, the tearing at clothes. No, the worst kind happened when your soul wept and no matter what you did, there was no way to comfort it. A section withered and became a scar on the part of your soul that survived. For people like me and Echo, our souls contained more scar tissue than life.” ― Katie McGarry

“When someone you love dies, and you're not expecting it, you don't lose her all at once; you lose her in pieces over a long time—the way the mail stops coming, and her scent fades from the pillows and even from the clothes in her closet and drawers. Gradually, you accumulate the parts of her that are gone. Just when the day comes—when there's a particular missing part that overwhelms you with the feeling that she's gone, forever—there comes another day, and another specifically missing part.” ― John Irving

“I have done it," she says. At first I do not understand. But then I see the tomb, and the marks she has made on the stone. A C H I L L E S, it reads. And beside it, P A T R O C L U S. "Go," she says. "He waits for you." In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.” ― Madeline Miller

“It's so curious: one can resist tears and 'behave' very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer... and everything collapses. ” ― Colette

“My sister will die over and over again for the rest of my life. Grief is forever. It doesn't go away; it becomes a part of you, step for step, breath for breath. I will never stop grieving Bailey because I will never stop loving her. That's just how it is. Grief and love are conjoined, you don't get one without the other. All I can do is love her, and love the world, emulate her by living with daring and spirit and joy.” ― Jandy Nelson

“Grief can destroy you --or focus you. You can decide a relationship was all for nothing if it had to end in death, and you alone. OR you can realize that every moment of it had more meaning than you dared to recognize at the time, so much meaning it scared you, so you just lived, just took for granted the love and laughter of each day, and didn't allow yourself to consider the sacredness of it. But when it's over and you're alone, you begin to see that it wasn't just a movie and a dinner together, not just watching sunsets together, not just scrubbing a floor or washing dishes together or worrying over a high electric bill. It was everything, it was the why of life, every event and precious moment of it. The answer to the mystery of existence is the love you shared sometimes so imperfectly, and when the loss wakes you to the deeper beauty of it, to the sanctity of it, you can't get off your knees for a long time, you're driven to your knees not by the weight of the loss but by gratitude for what preceded the loss. And the ache is always there, but one day not the emptiness, because to nurture the emptiness, to take solace in it, is to disrespect the gift of life.” ― Dean Koontz

“And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And you will sometimes open your window, so, for that pleasure . . . And your friends will be properly astonished to see you laughing as you look up at the sky! Then you will say to them, 'Yes, the stars always make me laugh!' And they will think you are crazy. It will be a very shabby trick that I shall have played on you...” ― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

“grief is a house where the chairs have forgotten how to hold us the mirrors how to reflect us the walls how to contain us grief is a house that disappears each time someone knocks at the door or rings the bell a house that blows into the air at the slightest gust that buries itself deep in the ground while everyone is sleeping grief is a house where no one can protect you where the younger sister will grow older than the older one where the doors no longer let you in or out” ― Jandy Nelson

“There should be a statute of limitation on grief. A rulebook that says it is all right to wake up crying, but only for a month. That after 42 days you will no longer turn with your heart racing, certain you have heard her call out your name. That there will be no fine imposed if you feel the need to clean out her desk; take down her artwork from the refrigerator; turn over a school portrait as you pass - if only because it cuts you fresh again to see it. That it's okay to measure the time she has been gone, the way we once measured her birthdays.” ― Jodi Picoult

“The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to.” ― Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler

“The tears I feel today I'll wait to shed tomorrow. Though I'll not sleep this night Nor find surcease from sorrow. My eyes must keep their sight: I dare not be tear-blinded. I must be free to talk Not choked with grief, clear-minded. My mouth cannot betray The anguish that I know. Yes, I'll keep my tears til later: But my grief will never go.” ― Anne McCaffrey

“Grief is a most peculiar thing; we’re so helpless in the face of it. It’s like a window that will simply open of its own accord. The room grows cold, and we can do nothing but shiver. But it opens a little less each time, and a little less; and one day we wonder what has become of it.” ― Arthur Golden

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing. At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me.” ― C.S. Lewis

“I have outlasted all desire, My dreams and I have grown apart; My grief alone is left entire, The gleamings of an empty heart. The storms of ruthless dispensation Have struck my flowery garland numb, I live in lonely desolation And wonder when my end will come. Thus on a naked tree-limb, blasted By tardy winter's whistling chill, A single leaf which has outlasted Its season will be trembling still.” ― Alexander Pushkin

“Whoever said that loss gets easier with time was a liar. Here's what really happens: The spaces between the times you miss them grow longer. Then, when you do remember to miss them again, it's still with a stabbing pain to the heart. And you have guilt. Guilt because it's been too long since you missed them last.” ― Kristin O'Donnell Tubb

“There once was a girl who found herself dead. She peered over the ledge of heaven and saw that back on earth her sister missed her too much, was way too sad, so she crossed some paths that would not have crossed, took some moments in her hand shook them up and spilled them like dice over the living world. It worked. The boy with the guitar collided with her sister. "There you go, Len," she whispered. "The rest is up to you.” ― Jandy Nelson

“Funeral Blues Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead, Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good.” ― W.H. Auden

“You can not die of grief, though it feels as if you can. A heart does not actually break, though sometimes your chest aches as if it is breaking. Grief dims with time. It is the way of things. There comes a day when you smile again, and you feel like a traitor. How dare I feel happy. How dare I be glad in a world where my father is no more. And then you cry fresh tears, because you do not miss him as much as you once did, and giving up your grief is another kind of death.” ― Laurell K. Hamilton

“But sometimes, unexpectedly, grief pounded over me in waves that left me gasping; and when the waves washed back, I found myself looking out over a brackish wreck which was illumined in a light so lucid, so heartsick and empty, that I could hardly remember that the world had ever been anything but dead.” ― Donna Tartt

“But what was there to say? Only that there were tears. Only that Quietness and Emptiness fitted together like stacked spoons. Only that there was a snuffling in the hollows at the base of a lovely throat. Only that a hard honey-colored shoulder had a semicircle of teethmarks on it. Only that they held each other close, long after it was over. Only that what they shared that night was not happiness, but hideous grief. Only that once again they broke the Love Laws. That lay down who should be loved. And how. And how much.” ― Arundhati Roy

“Every widow wakes one morning, perhaps after years of pure and unwavering grieving, to realize she slept a good night's sleep, and will be able to eat breakfast, and doesn't hear her husband's ghost all the time, but only some of the time. Her grief is replaced with a useful sadness. Every parent who loses a child finds a way to laugh again. The timbre begins to fade. The edge dulls. The hurt lessens. Every love is carved from loss. Mine was. Yours is. Your great-great-great-grandchildren's will be. But we learn to live in that love.” ― Jonathan Safran Foer

“He is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen and it's not about his face, but the life force I can see in him. It's the smile and the pure promise of everything he has to offer. Like he's saying, 'Here I am world, are you ready for so much passion and beauty and goodness and love and every other word that should be in the dictionary under the word life?' Except this boy is dead, and the unnaturalness of it makes me want to pull my hair out with Tate and Narnie and Fitz and Jude's grief all combined. It makes me want to yell at the God that I wish I didn't believe in. For hogging him all to himself. I want to say, 'You greedy God. Give him back. I needed him here.” ― Melina Marchetta

“I went to a tattoo parlor and had YES written onto the palm of my left hand, and NO onto my right palm, what can I say, it hasn't made my life wonderful, its made life possible, when I rub my hands against each other in the middle of winter I am warming myself with the friction of YES and NO, when I clap my hands I am showing my appreciation through the uniting and parting of YES and NO, I signify "book" by peeling open my hands, every book, for me, is the balance of YES and NO, even this one, my last one, especially this one. Does it break my heart, of course, every moment of every day, into more pieces than my heart was made of, I never thought of myself as quiet, much less silent, I never thought about things at all, everything changed, the distance that wedged itself between me and my happiness wasn't the world, it wasn't the bombs and burning buildings, it was me, my thinking, the cancer of never letting go, is ignorance bliss, I don't know, but it's so painful to think, and tell me, what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever bring me? I think and think and think, I've thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.” ― Jonathan Safran Foer

“And if one day,' she said, really crying now, 'you look back and you feel bad for being so angry, if you feel bad for being so angry at me that you couldn't even speak to me, then you have to know, Conor, you have to that is was okay. It was okay. That I knew. I know, okay? I know everything you need to tell me without you having to say it out loud.” ― Patrick Ness

“Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep. I am in a thousand winds that blow, I am the softly falling snow. I am the gentle showers of rain, I am the fields of ripening grain. I am in the morning hush, I am in the graceful rush Of beautiful birds in circling flight, I am the starshine of the night. I am in the flowers that bloom, I am in a quiet room. I am in the birds that sing, I am in each lovely thing. Do not stand at my grave bereft I am not there. I have not left.” ― Mary Elizabeth Frye

“She fit her head under his chin, and he could feel her weight settle into him. He held her tight and words spilled out of him without prior composition. And this time he made no effort to clamp them off. He told her about the first time he had looked on the back of her neck as she sat in the church pew. Of the feeling that had never let go of him since. He talked to her of the great waste of years between then and now. A long time gone. And it was pointless, he said, to think how those years could have been put to better use, for he could hardly have put them to worse. There was no recovering them now. You could grieve endlessly for the loss of time and the damage done therein. For the dead, and for your own lost self. But what the wisdom of the ages says is that we do well not to grieve on and on. And those old ones knew a thing or two and had some truth to tell, Inman said, for you can grieve your heart out and in the end you are still where you are. All your grief hasn't changed a thing. What you have lost will not be returned to you. It will always be lost. You're left with only your scars to mark the void. All you can choose to do is go on or not. But if you go on, it's knowing you carry your scars with you. Nevertheless, over all those wasted years, he had held in his mind the wish to kiss her on the back of her neck, and now he had done it. There was a redemption of some kind, he believed, in such complete fulfillment of a desire so long deferred.” ― Charles Frazier

“Now there is one thing I can tell you: you will enjoy certain pleasures you would not fathom now. When you still had your mother you often thought of the days when you would have her no longer. Now you will often think of days past when you had her. When you are used to this horrible thing that they will forever be cast into the past, then you will gently feel her revive, returning to take her place, her entire place, beside you. At the present time, this is not yet possible. Let yourself be inert, wait till the incomprehensible power ... that has broken you restores you a little, I say a little, for henceforth you will always keep something broken about you. Tell yourself this, too, for it is a kind of pleasure to know that you will never love less, that you will never be consoled, that you will constantly remember more and more.” ― Marcel Proust

“You attend the funeral, you bid the dead farewell. You grieve. Then you continue with your life. And at times the fact of her absence will hit you like a blow to the chest, and you will weep. But this will happen less and less as time goes on. She is dead. You are alive. So live.” ― Neil Gaiman

“It’s painful, loving someone from afar. Watching them – from the outside. The once familiar elements of their life reduced to nothing more than occasional mentions in conversations and faces changing in photographs….. They exist to you now as nothing more than living proof that something can still hurt you … with no contact at all.” ― Ranata Suzuki

“There is a time in life when you expect the world to be always full of new things. And then comes a day when you realise that is not how it will be at all. You see that life will become a thing made of holes. Absences. Losses. Things that were there and are no longer. And you realise, too, that you have to grow around and between the gaps, [...]” ― Helen Macdonald

“But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying, If I am dead, as dead I well may be, You'll come and find the place where I am lying, And kneel and say Ave there for me, And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me, And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be, For you will bend and tell me that you love me, And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me” ― Frederic Weatherly

“Grief is like sinking, like being buried. I am in water the tawny color of kicked-up dirt. Every breath is full of choking. There is nothing to hold on to, no sides, no way to claw myself up. There is nothing to do but let go. Let go. Feel the weight all around you, feel the squeezing of your lungs, the slow, low pressure. Let yourself go deeper. There is nothing but bottom. There is nothing but the taste of metal, and the echoes of old things, and days that look like darkness.” ― Lauren Oliver

For in grief nothing "stays put." One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral? But if a spiral, am I going up or down it? How often -- will it be for always? -- how often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty and make me say, "I never realized my loss till this moment"? The same leg is cut off time after time.” ― C.S. Lewis

“Grief reunites you with what you've lost. It's a merging; you go with the loved thing or person that's going away. You follow it a far as you can go. But finally,the grief goes away and you phase back into the world. Without him. And you can accept that. What the hell choice is there? You cry, you continue to cry, because you don't ever completely come back from where you went with him -- a fragment broken off your pulsing, pumping heart is there still. A cut that never heals. And if, when it happens to you over and over again in life, too much of your heart does finally go away, then you can't feel grief any more. And then you yourself are ready to die. You'll walk up the inclined ladder and someone else will remain behind grieving for you.” ― Philip K. Dick

“Dirge Without Music I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground. So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind: Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned. Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you. Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust. A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew, A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost. The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,— They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve. More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world. Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.” ― Edna St. Vincent Millay

“Take any emotion—love for a woman, or grief for a loved one, or what I’m going through, fear and pain from a deadly illness. If you hold back on the emotions—if you don’t allow yourself to go all the way through them—you can never get to being detached, you’re too busy being afraid. You’re afraid of the pain, you’re afraid of the grief. You’re afraid of the vulnerability that loving entails. “But by throwing yourself into these emotions, by allowing yourself to dive in, all the way, over your head even, you experience them fully and completely. You know what pain is. You know what love is. You know what grief is. And only then can you say, ‘All right. I have experienced that emotion. I recognize that emotion. Now I need to detach from that emotion for a moment’.” ― Mitch Albom

“I sometimes hold it half a sin To put in words the grief I feel; For words, like Nature, half reveal And half conceal the Soul within. But, for the unquiet heart and brain, A use in measured language lies; The sad mechanic exercise, Like dull narcotics, numbing pain. In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er, Like coarsest clothes against the cold: But that large grief which these enfold Is given in outline and no more. In Memoriam A.H.H. Section 5” ― Alfred Tennyson

“And when she at last came out, her eyes were dry. Her parents stared up from their silent breakfast at her. They both started to rise but she put a hand out, stopped them. ‘I can care for myself, please,’ and she set about getting some food. They watched her closely. In point of fact, she had never looked as well. She had entered her room as just an impossibly lovely girl. The woman who emerged was a trifle thinner, a great deal wiser, and an ocean sadder. This one understood the nature of pain, and beneath the glory of her features, there was character, and a sure knowledge of suffering. She was eighteen. She was the most beautiful woman in a hundred years. She didn’t seem to care. ‘You’re all right?’ her mother asked. Buttercup sipped her cocoa. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘You’re sure?’ her father wondered. ‘Yes,’ Buttercup replied. There was a very long pause. ‘But I must never love again.’ She never did.” ― William Goldman

“Relationships take up energy; letting go of them, psychiatrists theorize, entails mental work. When you lose someone you were close to, you have to reassess your picture of the world and your place in it. The more your identity was wrapped up with the deceased, the more difficult the loss.” ― Meghan O'Rourke

“Monday, June 9: People think they know you. They think they know how you're handling a situation. But the truth is no one knows. No one knows what happens after you leave them, when you're lying in bed or sitting over your breakfast alone and all you want to do is cry or scream. They don't know what's going on inside your head--the mind-numbing cocktail of anger and sadness and guilt. This isn't their fault. They just don't know. And so they pretend and they say you're doing great when you're really not. And this makes everyone feel better. Everybody but you.” ― William H. Woodwell Jr.

“Accepting death doesn't mean you won't be devastated when someone you love dies. It means you will be able to focus on your grief, unburdened by bigger existential questions like, "Why do people die?" and "Why is this happening to me?" Death isn't happening to you. Death is happening to us all.” ― Caitlin Doughty

“Isn't it weird," I said, "the way you remember things, when someone's gone?" What do you mean?" I ate another piece of waffle. "When my dad first died, all I could think about was that day. It's taken me so long to be able to think back to before that, to everything else." Wes was nodding before I even finished. "It's even worse when someone's sick for a long time," he said. "You forget they were ever healthy, ever okay. It's like there was never a time when you weren't waiting for something awful to happen." But there was," I said. "I mean, it's only been in the last few months that I've started remembering all this good stuff, funny stuff about my dad. I can't believe I ever forgot it in the first place." You didn't forget," Wes said, taking a sip of his water. "You just couldn't remember right then. But now you're ready to, so you can." I thought about this as I finished off my waffle.” ― Sarah Dessen

“There is much asked and only so much I think I can or should answer, and so, in this post I would like to give a few thoughts on what seemed to be the overwhelming question: “WHY?” And here is the best answer I can give: Because. Because sometimes, life is damned unfair. Because sometimes, we lose people we love and it hurts deeply. Because sometimes, as the writer, you have to put your characters in harm’s way and be willing to go there if it is the right thing for your book, even if it grieves you to do it. Because sometimes there aren’t really answers to our questions except for what we discover, the meaning we assign them over time. Because acceptance is yet another of life’s “here’s a side of hurt” lessons and it is never truly acceptance unless it has cost us something to arrive there. Why, you ask? Because, I answer. Inadequate yet true.” ― Libba Bray

“Sometimes she'd go a whole day without thinking of him or missing him. Why not? She had quite a full life, and really, he'd often been hard to deal with and hard to live with. A project, the Yankee oldtimers like her very own Dad might have said. And then sometimes a day would come, a gray one (or a sunny one) when she missed him so fiercely she felt empty, not a woman at all anymore but just a dead tree filled with cold November blow. She felt like that now, felt like hollering his name and hollering him home, and her heart turned sick with the thought of the years ahead and she wondered what good love was if it came to this, to even ten seconds of feeling like this.” ― Stephen King

“I almost shudder at the thought of alluding to the most fatal example of the abuses of grief which the history of mankind has preserved - the Cross. Consider what calamities that engine of grief has produced! With the rational respect that is due to it, knavish priests have added prostitutions of it, that fill or might fill the blackest and bloodiest pages of human history. {Letter to Thomas Jefferson, September 3, 1816]” ― John Adams

“It was too perfect to last,' so I am tempted to say of our marriage. But it can be meant in two ways. It may be grimly pessimistic - as if God no sooner saw two of His creatures happy than He stopped it ('None of that here!'). As if He were like the Hostess at the sherry-party who separates two guests the moment they show signs of having got into a real conversation. But it could also mean 'This had reached its proper perfection. This had become what it had in it to be. Therefore of course it would not be prolonged.' As if God said, 'Good; you have mastered that exercise. I am very pleased with it. And now you are ready to go on to the next.” ― C.S. Lewis

“Talk to me about the truth of religion and I'll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I'll listen submissively. But don't come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don't understand. Unless, of course, you can literally believe all that stuff about family reunions 'on the further shore,' pictured in entirely earthly terms. But that is all unscriptural, all out of bad hymns and lithographs. There's not a word of it in the Bible. And it rings false. We know it couldn't be like that. Reality never repeats. The exact same thing is never taken away and given back. How well the Spiritualists bait their hook! 'Things on this side are not so different after all.' There are cigars in Heaven. For that is what we should all like. The happy past restored.” ― C.S. Lewis

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