A broken heart heals when we allow the healing to go as deep as the wound went.
I suggest to you that it is because God loves us that he gives us the gift of suffering. Pain is God’s megaphone to rouse a deaf world. You see, we are like blocks of stone out of which the Sculptor carves the forms of men. The blows of his chisel, which hurt us so much are what make us perfect.
Is it better to have had a good thing and lost it, or never to have had it?
Leave my loneliness unbroken.
The eye, like a shattered mirror, multiplies the images of sorrow.
I am nothing. I’m like someone who’s been thrown into the ocean at night, floating all alone. I reach out, but no one is there. I call out, but no one answers. I have no connection to anything.
Believe, when you are most unhappy, that there is something for you to do in the world. So long as you can sweeten another’s pain, life is not in vain.
Art is long, and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.
Family is supposed to be our safe haven. Very often, it’s the place where we find the deepest heartache.
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.
Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I’ve got nothing but my aching soul?
Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them.
People think they know me, but they don’t. Not really. Actually, I am one of the loneliest people on this earth. I cry sometimes, because it hurts. It does. To be honest, I guess you could say that it hurts to be me.
I saw grief drinking a cup of sorrow and called out, ‘It tastes sweet, does it not?’ ‘You’ve caught me,’ grief answered, ’and you’ve ruined my business. How can I sell sorrow, when you know it’s a blessing?
A father’s death is the most important event, the most heartbreaking and poignant loss in a man’s life.
If you can make it through the night, there’s a brighter day.
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.
We shake with joy, we shake with grief. What a time they have, these two housed as they are in the same body.
A sad soul can kill quicker than a germ.
Later that night, I held an atlas on my lap, ran my fingers across the whole world, and whispered, ‘where does it hurt?’ It answered, everywhere, everywhere, everywhere.