Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by James Islington

Quote by James Islington

“Grief, my mother once told me, is love’s most honest expression. The last and hardest aspect of truly, truly caring for someone. She said it at her own mother’s funeral rites, tears in her eyes even as she tried to comfort a boy too young to understand why he was so sad, why his grandmother couldn’t be there anymore. She explained through choking sobs that without grief, love would be meaningless. Because it is impossible to truly love something that cannot be lost.”

Quote by James Islington

Book:The Strength of the Few
Create image

Work

The Strength of the Few

Browse quotes and source details for this work. more

Author

James Islington

Browse famous quotes and profile details for James Islington. more

You May Also Like

“Birth and death are illusions. There is no beginning and there is no end. Before this life, we were alive in our parents. And before that, we were alive in our grandparents, and our ancestors before that. One thing gets passed on to another, one form changes into another, and just as in death, our energy passes on.”

GriefGrief And LossGrief And Healing
Book:Aloneness to Oneness: 22 Life Lessons to Change the Way You See the World
Create image

“I wanted to turn on the table saw and rip a plank, but I had to drive to the airport. I had to go see what Lorraine had meant when she said that my sister was dead. I had to meet Bill at Mother’s and figure out why Lisa wasn’t there. I’d get on the plane knowing virtually nothing. If the passenger beside me were to ask the purpose of my trip, I’d have to tell him I didn’t know. Perhaps I would say, “Lorraine said they shot my sister” and then the person beside me would know as much as I.”

DeathUnderstandingGriefShock
Book:Erasure
Create image

“Reflectorama by Stewart Stafford City buildings screaming down, Memories staggering anywhere, My childhood self calls out, But I must not go back there. Conjoined twins amputated, The pathway home lies cracked, Tsunamis smashed our thin bridge, Egregious horse, blindly backed. Forced into immovable objections, Monoliths in mutual self-defeat, Torched your bed, now burn in it, As I hotfoot it down the street. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

PoetryGriefIdentityMental HealthTraumaModernismEscapismSurrealismFragmentationUrban Poetry
Author:Stewart Stafford
Create image