Politicians... talk in generalities and lies, and I think they've caused all our grief. They're so awful, they're really funny. I hate thinking this because my dad loved politics.
Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how.
There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.
Grief can't be shared. Everyone carries it alone. His own burden in his own way.
Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery's shadow or reflection: the fact that you don't merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief.
No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.
The only cure for grief is action.
You don't go around grieving all the time, but the grief is still there and always will be.
There is a kind of euphoria of grief, a degree of madness.
Grief knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can; and common sufferings are far stronger links than common joys.
Where grief is fresh, any attempt to divert it only irritates.
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.
Love remembered and consecrated by grief belongs, more clearly than the happy intercourse of friends, to the eternal world; it has proved itself stronger than death.
For me as an American, the most painful aspect of this is that I believe that that administration has taken the events of 9/11 and has manipulated the grief of the country and I think that's reprehensible.
My heart is so light that it's amazing. I get to play all this grief, all this loss, all this disaster and chaos. It's hysterically funny. I am very light.