When we suffer anguish we return to early childhood because that is the period in which we first learnt to suffer the experience of total loss. It was more than that. It was the period in which we suffered more total losses than in all the rest of our life put together.

Pain hardens, and great pain hardens greatly, whatever the comforters say, and suffering does not ennoble, though it may occasionally lend a certain rigid dignity of manner to the suffering frame.

There is immunity in reading, immunity in formal society, in office routine, in the company of old friends and in the giving of officious help to strangers, but there is no sanctuary in one bed from the memory of another. The past with its anguish will break through every defense-line of custom and habit; we must sleep and therefore we must dream.

One often calms one's grief by recounting it.

She was no longer wrestling with the grief, but could sit down with it as a lasting companion and make it a sharer in her thoughts.

When the heart grieves over what is has lost, the spirit rejoices over what it has left.

In private grief with careless scorn. In public seem to triumph and not to mourn.

The only cure for grief is action.

Well has it been said that there is no grief like the grief which does not speak.

Sorrow is the great idealizer.

Grief is only the memory of widowed affections.

Since grief only aggravates your loss, grieve not for what is past.

Nothing becomes so offensive so quickly as grief. When fresh it finds someone to console it, but when it becomes chronic, it is ridiculed, and rightly.

What right have I to grieve, who have not ceased to wonder?