|
339e4e4
|
All the times I have suddenly realized that my parents are dead, even now, it still surprises me, to exist in the world while that which made me has ceased to exist.
|
|
philosophy
grief-and-loss
|
Nicole Krauss |
|
c13d7db
|
Grief is an amputation, but hope is incurable haemophilia: you bleed and bleed and bleed.
|
|
grief-and-loss
hope-and-despair
|
David Mitchell |
|
46f5bce
|
Grief, no matter how you try to cater to its wail, has a way of fading away.
|
|
death-and-dying
pain
grief
mortality
sadness
truth
grief-and-loss-quotes
pain-goes-away
death-of-a-loved-one
grief-and-loss
grieve
truth-of-life
|
V.C. Andrews |
|
dee99ed
|
"Don't you understand how Cho's feeling at the moment?" [Hermione] asked. "No," said Ron and Harry together. Hermione sighed and laid down her quill. "Well, obviously, she's feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she's feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she can't work out who she likes best. Then she'll be feeling guilty, thinking it's an insult to Cedric's memory to be kissing Harry at all, and she'll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry. And she probably can't work out what her feelings toward Harry are anyway, because he was the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that's all very mixed up and painful. Oh, and she's afraid she's going to be thrown off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she's been flying so badly." A slightly stunned silence greeted the end of this speech, then Ron said, "One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode." "Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have," said Hermione nastily, picking up her her quill again."
|
|
grief-and-loss
humorous-quotes
|
J.K. Rowling |
|
0a01202
|
THOMASINA: ....the enemy who burned the great library of Alexandria without so much as a fine for all that is overdue. Oh, Septimus! -- can you bear it? All the lost plays of the Athenians! Two hundred at least by Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides -- thousands of poems -- Aristotle's own library!....How can we sleep for grief? SEPTIMUS: By counting our stock. Seven plays from Aeschylus, seven from Sophocles, nineteen from Euripides, my lady! You should no more grieve for the rest than for a buckle lost from your first shoe, or for your lesson book which will be lost when you are old. We shed as we pick up, like travellers who must carry everything in their arms, and what we let fall will be picked up by those behind. The procession is very long and life is very short. We die on the march. But there is nothing outside the march so nothing can be lost to it. The missing plays of Sophocles will turn up piece by piece, or be written again in another language. Ancient cures for diseases will reveal themselves once more. Mathematical discoveries glimpsed and lost to view will have their time again. You do not suppose, my lady, that if all of Archimedes had been hiding in the great library of Alexandria, we would be at a loss for a corkscrew?
|
|
grief-and-loss
|
Tom Stoppard |
|
9089908
|
How odd that we spend so much time treating the darkness, and so little time seeking the light. The ego loves to glorify itself by self-analysis, yet we do not get rid of darkness by hitting it with a baseball bat. We only get rid of darkness by turning on the light.
|
|
enlightenment
suffering
light
depression
self-awareness
psychoanalysis
darkness-and-light
darkness-within
light-of-love
light-of-the-spirit
painful-memories
self-analysis
treatment
healing-the-past
spiritual-healing
spiritual-wisdom
grief-and-loss
therapy
ego
self-help
|
Marianne Williamson |
|
9708ee8
|
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 lose you, under these conditions, then I not only mourn the loss, but I become inscrutable to myself. Who 'am' I, without you? When we lose some of these ties by which we are constituted, we do not know who we are or what to do. On one level, I think I have lost 'you' only to discover that 'I' have gone missing as well. At another level, perhaps what I have lost 'in' you, that for which I have no vocabulary, is a relationality that is composed neither exclusively of myself nor you, but is to be conceived as *the tie* by which those terms are differentiated and related.
|
|
mourning
grief-and-loss
grieving
|
Judith Butler |
|
62b00d1
|
But hers was a strange heart, sad in its very nature, and she could never weep and ease it as other women do, for her tears never brought her comfort.
|
|
sadness
sad-love
grief-and-loss
tears
grieving
|
Pearl S. Buck |
|
50106bf
|
"Survivors look back and see omens, messages they missed.
|
|
omens
grief-and-loss
survivors
|
Joan Didion |
|
7a281c1
|
It was quiet; so quiet. Didn't these people know how to grieve for a good man? Didn't they know how to weep, and scream with rage, and curse the powers of darkness in their sorrow? Didn't they know how to hold one another, and dry one another's tears, and tell tales of the things he had done, and of what he had been, to see him safe on his way? Where were the great fires, and the toasts in strong ale, and the scent of burning juniper?
|
|
grief-and-loss
|
Juliet Marillier |
|
89bb8be
|
Grief is a disease. We were riddled with its pockmarks, tormented by its fevers, broken by its blows. It ate at us like maggots, attacked us like lice- we scratched ourselves to the edge of madness. In the process we became as withered as crickets, as tired as old dogs.
|
|
grief-and-loss
|
Yann Martel |
|
4f1bac4
|
When I complain about the bandages she says: 'I promise you that when you take them off you'll be just as you were before.' And it is true. When she takes them off there is not one line, not one wrinkle, not one crease. And five weeks afterwards there I am, with not one line, not one wrinkle, not one crease. And there he is, lying with a ticket tied around his wrist because he died in a hospital. And there I am looking down at him, without one line, without one wrinkle, without one crease...
|
|
motherhood
grief
death
birth
baby
grief-and-loss
mother
hospital
scars
|
Jean Rhys |
|
bc27d19
|
"Waga tomo yasurakani", he said. Farewell, my friend."
|
|
grief-and-loss
|
Douglas Preston |
|
98972ab
|
In March of 1915, all three of Lord and Lady Chetwynd-Pitt's sons'd been gassed, blown up or machine-gunned in the very same week at the battle of Neuve-Chapelle. All three. Imagine that: On Monday, you've got three sons, by Friday you've got none. Lady Albertina had just, y'know, caved in. Physically, mentally, spiritually, brutally.
|
|
lords-and-ladies
neuve-chapelle
slade-house
grief-and-loss
horror
|
David Mitchell |
|
d7f0e09
|
The instinctive posture of grief is a shuffling compromise between defiance and prostration; and pride feels the need of striking a worthier attitude in face of such a foe.
|
|
grief-and-loss
grieving
|
Edith Wharton |
|
5ef9a8c
|
But I'm not ready to let Winn-Dixie go.
|
|
friendship
love
ínpirational
grief-and-loss
|
Kate DiCamillo |
|
61a6846
|
And there I lie in these damned bandages for a week. And there he lies, swathed up too, like a little mummy. And never crying. But now I like raking him in my arms and looking at him. A lovely forehead, incredibly white, the eyebrows drawn very faintly in gold dust... Well, this was a funny time. (The big bowl of coffee in the morning with a pattern of red and blue flowers. I was always so thirsty.) But uneasy, uneasy... Ought a baby to be as pretty as this, as pale as this, as silent as this? The other babies yell from morning to night. Uneasy... When I complain about the bandages she says: 'I promise you that when you take them off you'll be just as you were before.' And it is true. When she takes them off there is not one line, not one wrinkle, not one crease. And five weeks afterwards there I am, with not one line, not one wrinkle, not one crease. And there he is, lying with a ticket tied around his wrist because he died in a hospital. And there I am looking down at him, without one line, without one wrinkle, without one crease...
|
|
motherhood
grief
death
birth
baby
grief-and-loss
nurse
mother
hospital
|
Jean Rhys |