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.
Grief is not a disorder, a disease or sign of weakness. It is an emotional, physical and spiritual necessity, the price you pay for love. The only cure for grief is to grieve.
Sorrow makes us all children again - destroys all differences of intellect. The wisest know nothing.
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.
I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge.
Wherever you are you will always be in my heart.
The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of those depths.
Copyright: Elisabeth Kubler-Ross Family Limited Partnership.
The only cure for grief is action.
No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.
The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.
The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart.
What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.
Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.
If you suppress grief too much, it can well redouble.
When you are sorrowful, look again.
If you're going through hell, keep going.
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.
The pain passes, but the beauty remains.
We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.
The deep pain that is felt at the death of every friendly soul arises from the feeling that there is in every individual something which is inexpressible, peculiar to him alone, and is, therefore, absolutely and irretrievably lost.
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.
Dreams are more powerful than facts.
We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
Sorrow makes us all children again.
When someone you love dies, and you're not expecting it, you don't lose her all at once; you lose her in pieces over a long time—the way the mail stops coming, and her scent fades from the pillows and even from the clothes in her closet and drawers. Gradually, you accumulate the parts of her that are gone. Just when the day comes—when there's a particular missing part that overwhelms you with the feeling that she's gone, forever—there comes another day, and another specifically missing part.
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