She must face her grief where the struggle is always hardest-in the place where each trivial object is attended by pleasant memories.
Youth is the season of tragedy and despair. Youth is the time when one's whole life is entangled in a web of identity, in a perpetual maze of seeking and of finding, of passion and of disillusion, of vague longings and of nameless griefs, of pity that is a blade in the heart, and of 'all the little emptiness of love.
If broken hearts could kill, the earth would be as dead as the moon.
To mourn was distressing, but to endeavor to mourn and fail was worse than distress.
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