I will not stop singing the Muses who set me dancing.
You need time for the grief to heal, for the memories to fade in sharpness, time to adjust your expectation for the future. Be gentle with yourself, you'll make it.
Happiness is so nonsynonymous with joy or pleasure that it is not infrequently sought and felt in grief and deprivation.
Say a prayer for those who are overcome by despair and grief. Light candles of hope for all in their darkness!❤
Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce, For, he tames it, that fetters it in verse.
Interesting fact from the front lines: raw grief smells like ripped leaves and splintered branches, a jagged green shriek.
With time, grief has a way of slipping down in the crevices of your heart. It never really leaves; it just makes room for more.
I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to my grief. It felt better, somehow, to be helpless. I didn't feel ashamed.
Do you not believe that animals know grief and fear and pain? The world of men is not an easy one for them.
Grief is exhausting. When you learn - maybe through my age or experience - trying to harness the energy, whatever it is, muted energy or a concentration to find yourself in a place? You try to use it for when it's really necessary and can arrive.
If you've got to my age, you've probably had your heart broken many times. So it's not that difficult to unpack a bit of grief from some little corner of your heart and cry over it.
Psychologists have clinically observed that overly prolonged grief in the bereaved usually signifies a poor relationship with the one who died.
There was a roaring in my ears and I lost track of what they were saying. I believe it was the physical manifestation of unbearable grief.
Modern anxiety is expressed in the longing for what most people fear, even as modern grief is expressed in the unconsummated mourning for what they never really had.
There are lies in tears. The ones we weep most loudly are usually for ourselves, yet how easily we can pass them off as grief.
The burnt-off connectors and shadows where Ravan once filled my spaces— those, I think, are the sensations of grief.
Strange that grief should now almost choke me, because another human being's eye has failed to greet mine.
This is the real power of joy, to make us certain that, beneath all grief, the most fundamental of realities is joy itself.
The trauma said, ‘Don’t write these poems. Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.
Her grief has not so much changed her as stripped her down, stripped her body and her face.
But the more people we love and the more deeply we love them, the more vulnerable we are to loss and grief and loneliness.
