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G Quotes

Browse famous quotes beginning with G. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.

All G Quotes

“Grief seems like feeling unbroken one moment and breaking into pieces in another, walking away from places that bring back the memory of what once was there, who once lived there, swaying in rage, caught in a fog of depression, acceptance and denial, slow waning of interest, a desire to retreat in aloneness as if it is beyond the understanding of this world of your colossal loss, searching for that familiar face while walking down the streets.....”

“Grief, thought Marian, was not the melancholy mourning of a loss, not the long and dwindling ache that ballads sang of. It was forgetting, and remembering, again and again, an endless series of slashes, each as violent and sharp as the last. It was execution by a thousand different wounds, it was bleeding to death so slowly that you are certain it will never end, that you will suffer this torture for eternity, long after your natural life has ended. You are Prometheus, and instead of your liver, the eagle is tearing out your heart.”

“Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it...We might expect that we will be prostrate, inconsolable, crazy with loss. We do not expect to be literally crazy, cool customers who believe that their husband is about to return and need his shoes. In the version of grief we imagine, the model will be 'healing.' A Certain forward movement will prevail. The worst days will be the earliest days. We imagine that the moment to most severely test us will be the funeral, after which this hypothetical healing will take place. When we anticipate the funeral we wonder about failing to 'get through it,' rise to the occasion, exhibit the 'strength' that invariably gets mentioned as the correct response to death. We anticipate needing to steel ourselves for the moment: will I be able to greet people, will I be able to leave the scene, will I be able even to get dressed that day? We have no way of knowing that this will not be the issue. We have no way of knowing that the funeral itself will be anodyne, a kind of narcotic regression in which we are wrapped in the care of others and the gravity and meaning of the occasion. Nor can we know ahead of the fact the unending absence that follows, the void, the very opposite of meaning, the relentless succession of moments during which we will confront the experience of meaninglessness itself.”

“Grief undulates, slips thin like air in and through heart, body, and soul. It moves unnamed, unknown. A fleeting thing that is, for better or worse, forever here to stay. What this book does not do—and what I could never do—is attempt to put a definitive grasp on grief. Grief cannot be quantified; it swells and looms large, only to shrivel and hide when sought out and sized. Grief is one thing to one person and presents a whole new face to another. It is emotion and embodied; it is expressed and it emits. It is body, spirit, mind, and soul. Hidden and seen. Felt and perceived. It is no one thing, for it is everything and everywhere all at once. It is in and around me. And—whether you feel it, fight it, or fear it—grief is in and around you too.”

“Grief, when it comes like this, arrives without a knock. It wraps around the wrist when I hear a song I don’t skip fast enough. It sits in the passenger seat when I pass a street I swore I’d never return to. Some feelings never got spoken. Some wounds were too polite to bleed. I let them rot quietly like fruit forgotten in a fridge corner, sweetness gone sour, but still too familiar to throw away.”