Light griefs are plaintive , but great ones are dumb
Great grief does not of itself put an end to itself.
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.
The display of grief makes more demands than grief itself. How few men are sad in their own company.
That grief is light which can take counsel.
Unfamiliarity lends weight to misfortune, and there was never a man whose grief was not heightened by surprise.
It is sweet to mingle tears with tears; Griefs, where they wound in solitude, Wound more deeply.
Light griefs do speak, while sorrow's tongue is bound.
The man who has learned to triumph over sorrow wears his miseries as though they were sacred fillets upon his brow; and nothing is so entirely admirable as a man bravely wretched.
Light is that grief which counsel can allay.
Those griefs burn most which gall in secret.
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