You can’t love your mother or father if you don’t also have the capacity to grieve their deaths and, perhaps even more so, grieve parts of their lives.

She was a genius of sadness, immersing herself in it, separating its numerous strands, appreciating its subtle nuances. She was a prism through which sadness could be divided into its infinite spectrum.

10 second heartbreak.” That’s the time it takes to wake to full consciousness each day and remember…

Los ojos se me llenaron de lágrimas. El dolor del duelo es como un invitado borracho, cuando parece que se ha marchado, vuelve a darte un último abrazo.

Everything was a broken line for me in those days. I was slipped into the empty spaces between words.

Afghan GirlIce blue eyes that look to the morning sky as I knit the pieces and remnants of my life. I have No books, no paper, no pencils, and no black boards. I look at...

What I was afraid of was my own grief, the weight of it, the ineluctable corrosive force of it, and the stark awareness I had of being, for the first time in my life, entirely...

If you think about someone you’ve loved and lost, you are already with them. The rest is just details.

As soon as someone dies, frenzied construction of the future (shifting furniture, etc.): futuromania.

Some grief shows much of love,But much of grief shows still some want of wit.

The light in that room was a glow; I seem to remember the color green, or perhaps flowers. A pale green sheet covered his inert body but not his head, which lay (eyes closed, mouth...

Question me now about all other matters, but do not ask who I am, for fear you may increase in my heart it’s burden of sorrow as I think back; I am very full of...

It’s all rather political, mourning is.

Absence is a house so vast that inside you will pass through its walls and hang pictures on the air.

I have lived with you and loved you, and now you are gone. Gone where I cannot follow, until I have finished all of my days.

If you wear black, then kindly, irritating strangers will touch your arm consolingly and inform you that the world keeps on turning.They’re right. It does.However much you beg it to stop.It turns and lets grenadine...

He woke one morning tantalized by an idea: if he could catch the orchard trees motionless for one second — for half of one second — then none of it would have happened. The kitchen...

From Orient PointThe art of living isn’t hard to muster:Enjoy the hour, not what it might portend.When someone makes you promises, don’t trust herunless they’re in the here and now, and just herwilling largesse free-handed...

Everyone keeps telling me that time heals all wounds, but no one can tell me what I’m supposed to do right now. Right now I can’t sleep. It’s right now that I can’t eat. Right...

Axsem would say nothing more to any of them. No sooner had Fallon released him than he fled deep into the trees, staff in hand, with Hailos following after. Through the morning air, they heard...

Can I tell you something? It wasn’t so bad. Not so bad at all right then, me scowling at the dirt, James in his bed, the way it always always was. Look, if that’s all...

Although it was autumn and not summer the dark-gold sunlight and the inky shadows, long and slender in the shape of felled cypresses, were the same, and there was the same sense of everything drenched...

It is not as if an ‘I’ exists independently over here and then simply loses a ‘you’ over there, especially if the attachment to ‘you’ is part of what composes who ‘I’ am. If I...

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,...

Some people, they can’t just move on, you know, mourn and cry and be done with it. Or at least seem to be. But for me… I don’t know. I didn’t want to fix it,...

We often pity the poor, because they have no leisure to mourn their departed relatives, and necessity obliges them to labor through their severest afflictions: but is not active employment the best remedy for overwhelming...

The tragedy in life to mourn over is the death of what lies within a person who is still alive. The death of a potential is a mess of destiny!

I was tired of well-meaning folks, telling me it was time I got over being heartbroke. When somebody tells you that, a little bell ought to ding in your mind. Some people don’t know grief...

Yes. We both have a bad feeling. Tonight we shall take our bad feelings and share them, and face them. We shall mourn. We shall drain the bitter dregs of mortality. Pain shared, my brother,...

Regardless of what you’ve been through we all process energy differently.

Death abides by no one’s rules…it takes what pleases it without consciousness to its decisions. It destroys what it will. It took the pieces of perfection I once knew and shattered them. Now what remains...

Grief is always sudden as winter, no matter how long the autumn.

Patroclus, he says, Patroclus. Patroclus. Over and over until it is sound only.

Than thở hình như là cách tự vuốt ve nỗi khổ.

Somewhere in the notes Estraven wrote during our trek across the Gobrin Ice he wonders why his companion is ashamed to cry. I could have told him even then that it was not shame so...

Death moved in the night, in search for blood, and when it found Life, it passed on by, like a cloud that moves by the face of the moon. When he found those dead without...

I miss you so much in these wee morning hours,when the depth of the night sets my spirit free.When the forest is dark, and there doesn’t have to be anything in the worldbut the beauty...

We carry the dead with us only until we die too, and then it is we who are borne along for a little while, and then our bearers in their turn drop, and so on...

The more death, the more birth. People are entering, others are exiting. The cry of a baby, the mourning of others. When others cry, the other are laughing and making merry. The world is mingled...

Don’t say mourning. It’s too psychoanalytic. I’m not mourning. I’m suffering.

Instead of hating, my heart cries mercy! Mercy on me! Mercy on me! Mercy on me!

Why? Why was it that in cases of real love the one who is left does not more often follow the beloved by suicide? Only because the living must bury the dead? Because of the...

Be sure that your praise songs are numbered higher than your sorrowful dirges and your utmost hope, firmer than your woeful regrets. Be positive.

William sees it all happen again. The pain is not in the event. The subjection to it and his powerless state each time is where his anguish lies. He is unable to influence the situation,...

The state of mind above which my distraction floats like fog is suddenly perfectly clear, though the right word for it is less immediately available. Grief is too sharp and immediate; maybe it’s the high...

And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief;

I feel I’ve lost every part of me…there’s nothing left but the parts I’ve given to you. I need you to hold those pieces together. Please don’t forget who I was…then…then there really will be...

Maybe that would be a good thing to do. He wasn’t entirely sure, and that bothered him more than anything. How was he meant to judge right from wrong when he had never really striven...

It’s odd, isn’t it? People die every day and the world goes on like nothing happened. But when it’s a person you love, you think everyone should stop and take notice. That they ought to...

Let me be to my sad self hereafter kind.