Best 3947 quotes in «grief quotes» category

I wish the Ganges could wash the grief from my heart, but it can't.

I woke up to an ache in my chest, the smell of chocolate, and the sound of the ghost making a racket in the kitchen. Now, I'm not the sort to dwell on doom and sorrow. Life is too short for that. But I should at least try to describe the ache briefly: It is not the kind that comes from eating tacos too late at night. It's the kind that comes from being left behind. I think my heart is smart enough to know there's a place I should be filling with new memories, new jokes, and wondrous adventures with the one person I loved most of all. But that person is gone now. And so, my heart has a giant hole. I call it The Big Empty.

I wonder how long he’ll be sad. I wonder if his sadness will last forever, stretching on like an ocean. Drowning everyone he cares about. Drowning people he doesn’t even know. He won’t be able to control it. Oceans ebb and flow as they wish. They cover everything. They make everything blue.

I wonder, if I keep faking it, will I eventually believe it? A part of me worries that I’ll keep faking it and completely forget what’s real at all.

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?

I wonder where it all comes from--this need to go to the place where the body has been laid to rest. It's the need to reconfirm how precious someone was and how irreplaceable, and the desire to reconnect with them on a different plane.

I wonder if my first breath was as soul-stirring to my mother as her last breath was to me

I wonder if there is a person on Earth who is consoled by a casserole.

Just as when clouds are full they pour out rain, so when men are full of grief, they pour out tears.

Learning how to communicate with animals is just like learning any other language. The more you practice, the better you become.

Lessons, not blood, pour out of our deepest wounds.

Life hands us storms so we can paint rainbows.

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.

listen thoughtfully sounds of laughter gaiety and melancholy galore

Listen with your heart, not your brain. the heart only knows TRUTH!

Live BOLDLY! ......because no one ever told you healing is a life long process.

Living did not mean one joy piled upon another. It was merely the hope for less pain...

Liv grabbed the cookie nearest her and broke it open. “It's up to you to make your happy ending.” Liv stared at it a moment, rereading the words. Did it mean life? Because if it did, then Liv disagreed. Sometimes life was downright unfair. Bad things happened to good people.

Living people are a dying breed.

Living in this city, you developed a certain relationship with violence and news of violence: you expected it, dreaded it, and then when it happened, you worked hard to look away from it, because there was nothing you could do about it - not even grieve, because you knew that it would happen again and maybe in a way that was worse than before. Grieving is possible only when you know you have come to an end, when there is nothing more to follow. This city was full of bottled-up grief.

Long past the moment when her neck begins to stiffen and ache, she continues to stare into the darkness, even though none of the human secrets she needs to know are to be found in the stars but rather closer to the earth her boots stand upon.

Look at that house, so quiet and willing. If there is a good way to die, that's it out there. Graceful and calm in the face of inevitability. It feels generous, almost. Beauty and reassurances are not for ourselves. Of course death will come. And of course there is no good way to die. There is no peace. A weight will not lift. A leaf will not fall. But we can pretend.

Looking back, she supposed that had been one miracle of their marriage--even if a person was on the brink of swallowing fingernails and the other was thinking deeply about a problem they could not share, there was still someone to hold you as you wept through the night.

…Look, I’m real sorry about Cheryl, I know you loved her a lot,” Mandy apologized gloomily. “It’s wrong that people have to keep killing off Pollution.” “It’s alright, I think she wants to be remediated,” Alecto told her calmly, though his grief-stricken and depressed expression said more to Mandy than his words did. “You don’t have to forget Cheryl, no matter what Mearth said to you,” Mandy pointed out. “People shouldn’t be forced to forget what they love, or to just get over the death of what they love. Cheryl was your friend and nobody can make you forget her if you don’t want to.

Looking at those last photos was like flipping through a book of silence.

Losing him was like having a hole shot straight through me, a painful, constant reminder, an absence I could never fill.

Looking back together, telling our stories to one another, we learn how to be on our own.

Loss is an inevitable part of change.

Lo, [scribes] are slain, Their writings stolen, Woe is me for the grief of this time!

Loss is part of our story, it isn’t the story.

Loss pushes us to difficult places where we have not been before. We often question whether or not we have the courage and stamina to survive the pain. However, we often are given gifts that tell us that we are not alone and that we can withstand the journey.

Loss reshapes us and teaches us to fill ourselves with something new. If we resist, we feel as you do. Hollow. Empty.

Louises Trauer war wie der Fluss: konstant und doch nie gleich. Sie konnte Wellen schlagen oder alles überschwemmen, vorübergehend abebben oder dahinströmen, an manchen Tagen kalt und dunkel und tief sein, an anderen reißend und blendend.

Love does not always end well.

Love does these three things effectively: multiplies joy, divides trouble, subtracts grief, and adds peace.

Love from others is key in helping us to survive the loss of a particular love. With their support, we can endeavor to find a way of bearing the pain and going on without the person who has died—daring to go forward to trust in life again.

Love for the beauty of the soul. I shall love you always. When the flower of life has gone, ever I shall find you. When all is lost and winter comes, I shall be your spring time. And memory fades and wilts then, I shall always find you.... I shall always find you....

Love came from all directions. On paper, on screens, in dishes and words and deeds. We’re thinking of you every minute. I’m sorry. We’re sorry. We’re so sorry…

Love is blind, but a broken heart sees everything.

Love is a powerful force. There is nothing in this world, no other energy, as powerful as the force of genuine, unconditional love.

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.

LOVE IS LIKE A DESIGNER FASHION, ENJOY IT WHEN YOU HAVE IT. LET IT GO WHEN IT IS GONE BECAUSE A NEW ONE WILL COME.

Love is circumstantial; we can love anyone if need be; and losing the one we love is the singular catastrophe. Time does not heal it. Every present moment yearns for even the roughest past.

Love makes you strong when others are weak, brave when others are scared, hopeful when others are despairing and cheerful when others are sad.

Love is the only law capable of transforming grief into hope.

Love may not lead where we think or hope, but regardless of outcome it should be a call to seriousness and truth. If it is not that - if it is not moral in its effect - than love is no more than an exaggerated form of pleasure.

Love never lets go of our hands. Never. We came into the world as individual souls—held, blessed, named, loved—and we have a responsibility to our souls to keep living, living until we make our own way back home. Those who have gone before us have left torches along the path in the form of lessons imparted, examples set, and people who need our help. When we are willing to embark again on the path, to grab on to whatever rope God throws us in our times of loneliness and despair, our loved ones will be there to guide

Love may precede respect but it cannot survive the loss of it.

Love's whispers drown out sorrow's echoes.

...love smashes into your life like an ice floe, and even if your heart is built like the Titanic you go down