Best 3947 quotes in «grief quotes» category

When people mentioned it to me, they thought they were talking about some casual relative of mine. For most people that's what an uncle was. They had no idea how I felt about Finn. No idea that hearing them talk about AIDS, like that was the important part of the story--more important than who Finn was, or how much I loved him, or how much he was still breaking my heart every single hour of every single day--made me want to scream.

When people die,' she said softly, 'It doesn't necessarily mean you're ready to give them up.

When Rosencrantz asks Hamlet, "Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do surely bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your grief to your friends"(III, ii, 844-846), Hamlet responds, "Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me." (III,ii, 371-380)

... when she called to mind all this utter and crushing misery that had come upon my aunts' old music-master, she was moved to very real grief, and shuddered to think of that other grief, so different in its bitterness, which Mlle. Vinteuil must now be feeling, tinged with remorse at having virtually killed her father.

When someone is grieving, you don’t have to say anything. Just be present. Be nonjudgmental. Let them cry, scream, or sit in silence. You don't have to fix them.

When someone’s sick and not getting better, people give you all types of crap. They tell you things’ll be fine because they want to believe it themselves. But the truth I’ve found is that you just have to learn to keep going despite the pain.

When she was dying, it was impossible to see forward to the next minute. What was happening — for whole weeks — was all that was happening and happening and happening. Months before that, I got the dumb soup wrong. How awful. It was all she wanted and I had gotten it wrong. Then, in the airless days when it was really happening, we started to power panic that we didn’t know enough. What should we do with your ashes? Water or dirt. Water or dirt. Once, she asked to just be thrown into the river where we used to go, still alive, but not living anymore. After it was done, I couldn’t go back to my life. You understand, right? It wasn’t the same. I couldn’t tell if I loved myself more or less. It wasn’t until later, when I moved in with him and stood outside on our patchy imperfect lawn, that I remembered what had been circling in me: I am beautiful. I am full of love. I am dying.

When someone you love...when they die, you want it undone. You'd do anything to have them back, and it's easy to believe that if only this had happened or that had happened, everything would be fine. And that's what makes you angry. What makes you hate. You don't want to believe that sometimes bad things happen just because they do.

when the day deranges us displacing our ennui angel presented under the vaults gather our grief

When someone you love dies, you don't just lose them in the present or in the past. You lose the future you should have had, and might have had, with them. They are missing from all the life that was to be.

When someone close to you dies, you feel like you might die too. It takes some of the life out of you for a time.

When someone we love is snatched from us, it often feels very hard to make plans. Sometimes people feel like they have lost faith in the future, or they become superstitious.

When stupidity reaches its highest level, we act rubbish knowingly

When someone dies they get very cold and very still. That probably sounds obvious, but when it’s your mother it doesn’t feel obvious—it feels shocking. You watch, winded and reeling, as the medical technicians neutralize the stasis field and power down the synthetic organ metabolizer. But the sentimental gesture of kissing her forehead makes you recoil because the moment your lips touch her skin you realize just how cold and just how still she is, just how permanent that coldness and that stillness feel. Your body lurches like it’s been plunged into boiling water and for the first time in your life you understand death as a biological state, an organism ceasing to function. Unless you’ve touched a corpse before, you can’t comprehend the visceral wrongness of inert flesh wrapped around an inanimate object that wears your mother’s face. You feel sick with guilt and regret and sadness about inconsequential anecdote. You can’t remember anything thoughtful or sweet or tender that you ever did even though logically you know you must have. All you can recall is how often you were small and petty and false. She was your mother and she loved you in a way nobody ever has and nobody ever will and now she’s gone.

When someone dies, you have to get used to talking to someone else about the things you would have normally talked to that person about - have those conversations with someone else, ask those questions to someone else. [...] Who do you talk to when the only person who would have understood is gone?

When there are no words, know that the silences are carrying the thoughts and prayers of all who love you.

When things get really bad, you take comfort in the placeness of a place.

When the dream that was no longer can be, you have to dream a different dream.

When the sun sets do not despair; hope sits with you in the dark.

When we are preoccupied with wealth and material acquisitions, it chokes God's word in us and makes it unfruitful. But if we follow His plan of being prosperous you will enjoy the blessings of this life.

When we are sad—at least I am like this—it can be comforting to cling to familiar objects, to the things that don't change.

When the dead return they will come to you in dream and in waking, will be the bird knocking, knocking against glass, seeking a way in, will masquerade as the wind, its voice made audible by the tongues of leaves, greedily lapping, as the waves’ self-made fugue is a turning and returning, the dead will not then nor ever again desert you, their unrest will be the coat cloaking you, the farther you journey from them the more that distance will maw in you, time and place gulching when the dead return to demand accounting, wanting and wanting and wanting everything you have to give and nothing will quench or unhunger them as they take all you make as offering. Then tell you to begin again.

When we are sad...it can be comforting to cling to familiar objects, to things that don't change.

When we start rating each other’s lives and afflictions, we lose a bit of our humanity, compassion and perspective.

When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough. If we always had smiled on the one who is gone, there would be no despair in our grief; and some sweetness would cling to our tears, reminiscent of virtues and happiness. For our recollections of veritable love—which indeed is the act of virtue containing all others—call from our eyes the same sweet, tender tears as those most beautiful hours wherein memory was born.

When we learn to attribute meaning to the events in our lives, we connect with our Higher Purpose, Higher Wisdom, or Source; we become Master of the Self. A gradual process, this is often tied to loss and to love.

When we share in each other's grief and pain, we lighten it. Or maybe we just give each other permission to feel it fully and, through that act of acceptance, the grief becomes more bearable. Because, like the rain, tears too have an end. And with deep emotions, we are open to each other in unexpected ways.

When we understand the illusory nature of life and the profound power of eternal love, which enables us to create miracles and experience the presence of our deceased loved ones, we find ourselves living with joy, hope and peace.

When wisdom comes, transformation comes. Wisdom makes the difference between the succeeding man and the failing man.

When you are in love, you are warm even in the rain. When you are in grief, you are cold even in the sun.

When you cry about losing a dog, it means the dog did its job. It means the dog made a connection.

When you experience loss, people say you’ll move through the 5 stages of grief…. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance ….. What they don’t tell you is that you’ll cycle through them all every day.

When you have the world on your shoulders, God alone can help you carry it.

When you don't have something anymore, you learn to live without it." That's what my dad told me that first night after he found me sleeping inside a closet underneath a pile of my mom's clothes. All the different smells of her were still there and the memories were alive even if she wasn't. I looked up into his face and wondered why would I ever want to learn to live without her? That felt like she really would be gone forever, and I wanted to limp on the broken piece of me so I could feel her there all the time.

When you go through a breakup, it feels like someone died. And the truth is that someone has died – the relationship.

When you know you are going down, dying slowly and taken your whole family with you; that is what really scares me...

When you know you are going down and dying slowly and taken your whole family with you; that is what really scares me...

When you lose someone you love, you grieve the past and fear the future.

When you lose a child, you grieve once because you have lost her, when you are barren, you grieve every day because of the child you could have had

When you lose someone you love, it's hard to imagine that you'll ever feel better. That, one day, you'll manage to be in a good mood simply because the weather is nice or the barista at the coffee shop on the corner remembered your order. But it does happen. If you're patient and you work at it.

When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and use it to hang your troubles.

When you pick up a casket, you feel the weight of it very differently than you think you will. We carry it. It carries us. The real weight is carrying each other.

When you're sad, everything sad builds up. The most painfully truthful thoughts arise, uninvited and unforgiving. The brain, a devoted soldier, always successful, somehow manages to rapidly search its host's darkness. There is no escape to what is next. First, all the buried thoughts you locked in a gloomy chest are released. Second, you begin crying over what you never wanted to admit. Suddenly, you begin to cry over things you did not even know actually deeply hurt you. And sometimes, the wet physicalization of your sorrow isn't enough. Instead, a violent madness stirs in your chest and your head is polluted with a red so angry, your jaw opens to fill the earth with a scream so rare you lose a little of yourself. Your roaring voice trails in pieces, like bullet fragments in flesh, to complete the song that is Loss.

WHEN YOU'RE FEELING DOWN, ALWAYS BELIEVE THAT THE PAIN YOU'VE BEEN FEELING, WILL SOON GO AWAY, AND JOY IS ON THE WAY.

When you try to take someone's pain away from them, you don't make it better. You just tell them it's not OK to talk about their pain.

Where are you?" I wheeze into the floor. "Where did you go?

Wherever problem persist, wisdom is lacking. There is no problem anywhere except wisdom problem. Wisdom provides solutions where there is complications.

Whether the judge all those years ago agreed that Jenny had no right to what she wished, or whether her plainspoken grief, which she shouted out in silence from her eyes, moved him, or disturbed him, or confused him, doesn't matter. He whispered, 'Life.' And so she lived. Is living still. Will go on living, to the end of that whisper.

Who decided to call it "Emotional Baggage" and not "Griefcase"?

Who says that all must vanish? Who knows, perhaps the flight of the bird you wound remains, and perhaps flowers survive caresses in us, in their ground. It isn't the gesture that lasts, but it dresses you again in gold armor--from breast to knees-- and the battle was so pure an Angel wears it after you.