Expression Of Grief Quotes

In the expression of grief lies recovery from grief itself. Nor ~ Christopher Priest

I have no words to express my sadness, grief, and frustration. I never thought Bengali people could do such a heinous and atrocious thing. My heart goes out to those innocent victims and their families. ~ Debasish Mridha

Tragedy and comedy are simply questions of value; a little misfit in life makes us laugh; a great one is tragedy and cause for expression of grief. ~ Elbert Hubbard

She hasn't cried once. SHe doesn't understand that Margaret is dead. At that age, they can't fully understand the concept of death. It's a good thing really.
Jane fully understood the concept of death and she felt truly injured that Aunt Bess considered her unmoved. Jane thought it should be perfectly clear to everyone that rearranging the furniture in her dollhouse was her expression of grief. She had been moving the Mother Doll (it was a nuclear family of dolls that consisted of a mother, a father, a boy, and a girl) and all the Mother Doll's possessions into the dollhouse's attic. Jane wondered why tears were considered a superior form of grief to the rearrangement of one's dollhouse.
Feeling terribly misunderstood, Jane began to cry.
Oh listen, said Aunt Bess, she begins to understand. ~ Gabrielle Zevin

The expression 'to lose one's faith', as one might a purse or a ring of keys, has always seemed to me rather foolish. It must be one of those sayings of bourgeois piety, a legacy of those wretched priests of the eighteenth century who talked so much.

Faith is not a thing which one 'loses', we merely cease to shape our lives by it. That is why old-fashioned confessors are not far wrong in showing a certain amount of scepticism when dealing with 'intellectual crises', doubtless far more rare than people imagine. An educated man may come by degrees to tuck away his faith in some back corner of his brain, where he can find it again on reflection, by an effort of memory: yet even if he feels a tender regret for what no longer exists and might have been, the term 'faith' would nevertheless be inapplicable to such an abstraction, no more like real faith, to use a very well-worn simile, than the constellation of Cygne is like a swan. ~ Georges Bernanos

Gardening is, by its very nature, an expression of the triumph of optimism over experience. No matter how bad this year was, there's always next year. Experience doesn't count. ~ William Alexander

The purest expression of the doctrine of Liberalism was probably that of Benjamin Constant. ~ Francis Parker Yockey

Elizabeth?" Ian said in a clipped voice.
She whirled around, her heart slamming against her ribs, her hand flying to her throat, her knees turning to jelly.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"You-you startled me," she said as he strolled up to her, his expression oddly impassive. "I didn't expect you to come here," she added nervously.
"Really?" he mocked. "Whom did you expect after that note-the Prince of Wales?"
The note! Crazily, her first thought after realizing ti was from him, not Valerie, was that for an articulate man his handwriting verged on the illiterate. Her second thought was that he seemed angry about something. He didn't keep her long in doubt as to the reason.
"Suppose you tell me how, during the entire afternoon we spent together, you neglected to mention that you are Lady Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth wondered a little frantically how he'd feel if he knew she was the Countess of Havenhurst, not merely the eldest daughter of some minor noble or knight.
"Start talking, love. I'm listening."
Elizabeth backed away a step.
"Since you don't want to talk," he bit out, reaching for her arms, "is this all you wanted from me?"
"No!" she said hastily, backing out of his reach. "I'd rather talk."
He stepped forward, and Elizabeth took another step backward, exclaiming, "I mean, there are so many interesting topics for conversation, are there not?"
"Are there?" he asked, moving forward again.
"Yes," she exclaimed, ta ~ Judith McNaught

Please wake me when I'm free
I cannot bear captivity
4 I would rather be stricken blind
Than 2 live without expression of mind ~ Tupac Shakur

Inevitably Tate phoned her at her office when she'd returned. "Leta said you and Colby left suddenly," he said softly. "What did you find out?"
"This isn't a secure line," she told him without expression in her voice. It hurt to hear him talking to her in that almost intimate tone after what Audrey had told her. "Stop talking like a secret agent," he teased.
"You start thinking like one again," she told him. "I'll meet you for coffee in the usual place."
"What usual place?"
"Where you and Audrey go, of course."
That hadn't been a teasing tone in her voice. "I only took her there once, Cecily, the day you ran into us ... "
"Ten minutes." She hung up, got her jacket and went out, telling her secretary that she had a meeting and would be back in an hour. She dreaded seeing him again. But if she could just keep her head, perhaps she could bluff her way through. She felt betrayed. ~ Diana Palmer

All vices sink into our whole being, if we do not crush them before they gain a footing; and in like manner these sad, pitiable, and discordant feelings end by feeding upon their own bitterness, until the unhappy mind takes a sort of morbid delight in grief. ~ Seneca.

Freud becomes one of the dramatis personae, in fact, as discoverer of the great and beautiful modern myth of psychoanalysis. By myth, I mean a poetic, dramatic expression of a hidden truth; and in placing this emphasis, I do not intend to put into question the scientific validity of psychoanalysis. ~ D.M. Thomas

I do not think that safety should be bought at the cost of complicating the expression of good solutions to real-life problems. ~ Bjarne Stroustrup

Simply according artistic works the same protection as nonartistic works may not be sufficient to protect creativity. After all, the very essence of artistic expression is invention and artists necessarily draw on their own experience. But if the rules of liability are unclear, artists will not be able to know how much disguise is sufficient to protect their claims from the claims of those who may see themselves in the portrayals. ~ Irving Kaufman

Maybe his grief was like her wounded arm. Slowly healing. Gradually becoming les consuming as life delivered other worries and other joys. Other sources of pain and happiness. She wanted that for him. More life. More happiness. ~ Veronica Rossi

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? ~ Juliet Marillier

When you deny and block the Truth in your heart, when you don't express your love and don't live who you truly are, fear invades the mind and pain invades the body. ~ Dragos Bratasanu

I've been alive a long time, long enough to know that the more baggage you carry in life, the more unstable you'll be, until eventually you get sick of carrying it, and then you just fall down. ~ Rebecca McNutt

They say football is America's greatest game, but it's not. The greatest game in America is called opportunity. Football is merely a great expression of it. ~ Joe Kapp

It is the peculiarity of grief to bring out the childish side of man. ~ Victor Hugo

What if all possible
pain was only the grief of truth? ~ Brenda Shaughnessy

Pay no attention to toxic words. What people say is often a reflection of themselves, not you. ~ Christian Baloga

Looking at those last photos was like flipping through a book of silence. ~ Helen Oyeyemi

Proper mourning leaves one nothing to do but mourn, and I've concluded this isn't a good thing. Grief crowds in closely enough without the rest of life being shoved aside to make way for it. ~ Grace Burrowes

That's the inescapable math of tragedy and the multiplication of grief ~ Ben Sherwood

I would say that not many German people are still alive, who experienced what happened during the third reich. We don't have to go to the Stasi, we can go to the Gestapo, and see what happens, when your human rights, your ability to a freedom of expression and a freedom of thought is infringed upon. This is terribly, terribly dangerous territory. ~ Ray McGovern

It was a long head.

It was a wedge, a sliver, a grotesque slice in which it seemed the features had been forced to stake their claims, and it appeared that they had done so in a great hurry and with no attempt to form any kind of symmetrical pattern for their mutual advantage. The nose had evidently been first upon the scene and had spread itself down the entire length of the wedge, beginning among the grey stubble of the hair and ending among the grey stubble of the beard, and spreading on both sides with a ruthless disregard for the eyes and mouth which found precarious purchase. The mouth was forced by the lie of the terrain left to it, to slant at an angle which gave to its right-hand side an expression of grim amusement and to its left, which dipped downwards across the chin, a remorseless twist. It was forced by not only the unfriendly monopoly of the nose, but also by the tapering character of the head to be a short mouth; but it obvious by its very nature that, under normal conditions, it would have covered twice the area. The eyes in whose expression might be read the unending grudge they bore against the nose were as small as marbles and peered out between the grey grass of the hair.
This head, set at a long incline upon a neck as wry as a turtle's cut across the narrow vertical black strip of the window.
Steerpike watched it turn upon the neck slowly. It would not have surprised him if it had dropped off, so toylike was its angle.
As he wa ~ Mervyn Peake

I continued to stare at the empty seat because my sensation of a vibrant presence there was unrelieved. And in my staring I perceived that the fabric of the seat, the inner webbing of swirling fibers, had composed a pattern in the image of a face - an old woman's face with an expression of avid malignance - floating amidst wild shocks of twisting hair. ~ Thomas Ligotti

How can I expect
To be free of grief
When I am with you? ~ Jyoti Patel

Royal summoned mourners. They came from the village, from the neighboring hills and, wailing like dogs at midnight, laid siege to the house. Old women beat their heads against the walls, moaning men prostrated themselves: it was the art of sorrow, and those who best mimicked grief were much admired. After the funeral everyone went away, satisfied that they'd done a good job. ~ Truman Capote

For many people, life is full of pain, suffering. It doesn't consist of clear blue skies or fresh green grass that's always greener on the other side. It's filled with hardships, grief, betrayal, and death.
These things define the human condition.
They define the sort of person an individual grows up to be, once those tribulations have, for the most part, ended.
But what truly defines you isn't the fact that you have seen death, known the feeling of betrayal by someone you trust, or watched as something you loved was ripped out of your hands.
What truly defines you is the way you reacted. ~ Tiana Dalichov

The philosophy of praxis does not aim at the peaceful resolution of existing contradictions in history and society, but is the very theory of these contradictions. It is not the instrument of government of the dominant groups in order to gain the consent and exercise hegemony over the subaltern classes. It is the expression of subaltern classes who want to educate themselves in the art of government and who have an interest in knowing all truths, even the unpleasant ones, and in avoiding the impossible deceptions of the upper class, and even more their own. ~ Antonio Gramsci

The flute is traditionally the property of the male side of matrilineal hunter-gatherer societies and was used as a means of communication and personal expression. ~ R. Carlos Nakai

passions without truth, truths without passion; heroes without heroic deeds, history without events; development, whose sole driving force seems to be the calendar, wearying with constant repetition of the same tensions and relaxations; antagonisms that periodically seem to work themselves up to a climax only to lose their sharpness and fall away without being able to resolve themselves; pretentiously paraded exertions and philistine terror at the danger of the world's coming to an end, and at the same time the pettiest intrigues and court comedies played by the world redeemers, who in their laisser aller remind us less of the Day of Judgment than of the times of the Fronde – the official collective genius of France brought to naught by the artful stupidity of a single individual; the collective will of the nation, as often as it speaks through universal suffrage, seeking its appropriate expression through the inveterate enemies of the interests of the masses, until at length it finds it in the self-will of a filibuster. If any section of history has been painted gray on gray, it is this. ~ Karl Marx

And then, just like that, my heart broke. My face crumpled, my composure went and I held him tightly and I stopped caring that he could feel the shudder of my sobbing body because grief swamped me. It overwhelmed me and tore at my heart and my stomach and my head and it pulled me under, and I couldn't bear it. I honestly thought I couldn't bear it. ~ Jojo Moyes

Everyone reacted differently to being spoken to in a language they didn't understand. Katya got quiet and scared. Ivan leaned forward with an amused expression. Grisha narrowed his eyes and nodded in a manner suggesting the dawn of comprehension. Boris, a bearded doctoral student, rifled guiltily through his notes like someone having a nightmare that he was already supposed to speak Russian. ~ Elif Batuman