The person you consider ignorant and insignificant is the one who came from God, that he might learn bliss from grief and knowledge from gloom.
Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
Life is eternal; and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.
Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.
They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it. Death cannot kill what never dies.
Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.
Poetry is about the grief. Politics is about the grievance.
In struggling against anguish one never produces serenity; the struggle against anguish only produces new forms of anguish.
That grief is light which can take counsel.
What torments of grief you endured, from evils that never arrived
Sorrows cannot all be explained away in a life truly lived, grief and loss accumulate like possessions.
What impropriety or limit can there be in our grief for a man so beloved?.
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.
The display of grief makes more demands than grief itself. How few men are sad in their own company.
If you suppress grief too much, it can well redouble.
Confronting our feelings and giving them appropriate expression always takes strength, not weakness. It takes strength to acknowledge our anger, and sometimes more strength yet to curb the aggressive urges anger may bring and to channel them into nonviolent outlets. It takes strength to face our sadness and to grieve and to let our grief and our anger flow in tears when they need to. It takes strength to talk about our feelings and to reach out for help and comfort when we need it.
Death is no more than passing from one room into another. But there's a difference for me, you know. Because in that other room I shall be able to see.
And can it be that in a world so full and busy the loss of one creature makes a void so wide and deep that nothing but the width and depth of eternity can fill it up!
Death cannot kill what never dies.
Books are living things and their task lies in their vows of silence. You touch them as they quiver with a divine pleasure. You read them and they fall asleep to happy dreams for the next 10 years. If you do them the favor of understanding them, of taking in their portions of grief and wisdom, then they settle down in contented residence in your heart.
I sometimes find it half a sin, To put to words the grief i feel, For words like nature,half reveal, and half conceal the soul within.
When the heart is cut or cracked or broken Do not clutch it Let the wound lie open Let the wind from the good old sea blow in to bathe the wound with salt and let it sting. Let a stray dog lick it Let a bird fly in the hole and sing a simple song like a tiny bell and let it ring.
When a friend needs consoling, do not give in to the temptation of telling stories similar to theirs of disaster or bereavement. It is something people often do to show empathy but nothing is more tiresome than other people's problems when you want to focus on your own. Listening is by far the best form of consolation.
Grief can have a quality of profound healing because we are forced to a depth of feeling that is usually below the threshold of awareness.
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