“She thought how curious it was that responses such as this--emotions, even--could run parallel with but quite separate from unhappiness. I am unhappy all the time, she thought, and that is a total occupation, but some other part of me still goes on working. I still see that things are beautiful, or significant, and that prompts a feeling. I can be angry, or pleased. But all this with detachment, as though it happened to someone else. It is as though half of me were some stranger, living independently.” FeelingsGriefEmotionsMourningEmptinessUnhappinessBereavementDetachment Book:Perfect Happiness Source: Perfect Happiness
“She was obsessed, isolated, locked within herself, in feverish pursuit. She knew that something disastrous was happening to her, that possibly she was going mad, and she knew also that if she ceased for one moment to think about Steven, to carry him with her in her head, she might lose him. He was dead; he only existed in recollection; when recollection ceased even that tenuous existence would be gone. A name, no more. Like the host of names on the white tombstones of Bunhill Fields burial ground; the silent army beneath the soil.” DeathMemoriesLossGriefMemoryMourningRemembranceBereavementRecollections Book:Perfect Happiness Source: Perfect Happiness
“Frances, finding that useful mechanical smile, hugging Tabitha with one arm, looked at this dumpy man with pointed beard and noticeable brown eyes and saw in his expression the flicker of awkwardness that she generated now all around her. The bereaved are faintly leprous.” DeathLossGriefMourningBereavementAwkwardness Book:Perfect Happiness Source: Perfect Happiness
“She wondered why happiness should be so acutely remembered when sorrow vanishes, like pain. Those brilliant tethered moments are seldom black. I was often miserable--but some kindly (or perverse) mechanism of the memory fades out all that, leaving quite other things, and hence an untruthful whole. We quarrelled, but all I have now of those quarrels is a pungent taste, not words nor phrases but a flavour: his silent back, my churning resentment.” RelationshipsMemoriesLossGriefSorrowMourningQuarrelsBereavementMarriages Book:Perfect Happiness Source: Perfect Happiness
“Ruth Bowers laid her hand, as she spoke, on Frances's arm and the physical contact was like a burn, distracting her totally. Two days after Steven's death she had lain in bed and thought, I shall never again feel someone else's arms round me, another person's body close up against mine, not sex, not nakedness, just physical closeness, often, casually, with another human being. And now the touch of others--Zoe's quick hugs, Tabitha's dutiful brushing of the cheek--had this disproportionate effect. To be touched was both a sacrilege and a joy.” LossGriefMourningBereavementTouchClosenessPhysicalityPhysical Contact Book:Perfect Happiness Source: Perfect Happiness