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Grief does not change you, Hazel. It reveals you.
Sep 10, 2025
If you suppress grief too much, it can well redouble.
I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil.
No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.
What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.
Wherever you are you will always be in my heart.
Grief remains one of the few things that has the power to silence us. It is a whisper in the world and a clamor within. More than sex, more than faith, even more than its usher death, grief is unspoken, publicly ignored except for those moments at the funeral that are over too quickly, or the conversations among the cognoscenti, those of us who recognize in one another a kindred chasm deep in the center of who we are.
I know for certain that we never lose the people we love, even to death. They continue to participate in every act, thought and decision we make. Their love leaves an indelible imprint in our memories. We find comfort in knowing that our lives have been enriched by having shared their love.
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!
I have already transmitted to Congress the report of the naval court of inquiry on the destruction of the battleship Maine in the harbor of Havana during the night of the fifteenth of February. The destruction of that noble vessel has filled the national heart with inexpressible horror. Two hundred and fifty-eight brave sailors and marines and two officers of our Navy, reposing in the fancied security of a friendly harbor, have been hurled to death, grief and want brought to their homes and sorrow to the nation.
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent.
I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge.
Dreams are more powerful than facts.
Grief is the price we pay for love.
Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
When you are sorrowful, look again.
Tears are the silent language of grief.
Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death.
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.
ask not for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee
Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.
We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
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.
A well-spent day brings happy sleep.
When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.
To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.
Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.
Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.
I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge. That myth is more potent than history. That dreams are more powerful than facts. That hope always triumphs over experience. That laughter is the only cure for grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death.
Is death the last sleep? No, it is the last and final awakening.
A horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.
Life is eternal; and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.
Death ends a life, not a relationship.
For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity.
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.
Death is nothing else but going home to God, the bond of love will be unbroken for all eternity.
People are like stained - glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.
The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.
The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of those depths.
If you're going through hell, keep going.
As a well spent day brings happy sleep, so life well used brings happy death.
When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand.
The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing...that is a friend who cares.
Friends share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand.
When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.