Diana Gabaldon Quotes

When Michael died I was tipped over the edge. I was beyond grief.

I feel like everyone else in this country today. I am utterly devastated.

I'm in a great rage now, as I understand how many lives we have lost.

It was the saddest day of my life.

Then she was pressing her little proud broken self against his face, as close as she could get, and then they died.

Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.

You see, all that I ever held dear has been taken from me," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "And when you've lost everything-" Her facade began to crumble, and her voice broke, but she made herself carry on. "When you've lost everything, you've got nothing to lose.

You're an idiot," she whispered tearfully. Finally, he opened his eyes and stared up at her; by then, she had moved on to stroking his hair and crying. She sat beside him on the edge of the bed, trying very hard not to bump him or let her cold tears fall on his bare chest and arms. For a moment he blinked at her. Then he asked, "Are you dead too?

weeping...betraying a sense of loss so huge and irreparable that the mind balks at taking its measure.

Anne, are you killed?' shrieked Diana, throwing herself on her knees beside her friend. 'Oh, Anne, dear Anne, speak just one word to me and tell me if you're killed.

But sometimes, unexpectedly, grief pounded over me in waves that left me gasping; and when the waves washed back, I found myself looking out over a brackish wreck which was illumined in a light so lucid, so heartsick and empty, that I could hardly remember that the world had ever been anything but dead.

One by one, drops fell from her eyes like they were on an assembly line - gather, fall, slide...gather, fall, slide...each one commemorating something she had lost. Hope. Faith. Confidence. Pride. Security. Trust. Independence. Joy. Beauty. Freedom. Innocence.

Grief-stricken. Stricken is right; it is as though you had been felled. Knocked to the ground; pitched out of life and into something else.

I was terribly wounded by my wife's death.

My thinking was scrambled when Sullivan and I separated. Something happened to me that had never happend before. I couldn't cope. It was heartbreak time. I thought it was the end of the world.

My daughter, Grace, was not killed by a gun. She died suddenly at age 5 from a virulent form of strep. As I stood stunned in a church at her memorial, one of the hardest things I heard someone say was, 'I'm going to go home and hug my child a little tighter.' 'Well, good for you,' I thought. 'I'm going to go home and scream.'

I just lost my best friend, I have been crying hysterical for a full day.

It is a curious sensation: the sort of pain that goes mercifully beyond our powers of feeling. When your heart is broken, your boats are burned: nothing matters any more. It is the end of happiness and the beginning of peace.

Every day is a new sense of tearing my heart out of my body again when I see other children who have been killed, and I know what their families are going through.

Grief causes suffering and disease.

No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.

Since Beau's death, I'm definitely shattered. I feel like a piece of china that's been glued back together again. The cracks may be imperceptible-but they're there. Look closely, and you can see the glue holding me together, the precarious edges that vein through my heart. I am not the same. I feel it every day.

Heartbreak is a real thing.

A loss of a great friend is traumatic and emotionally tough.

My music comes from heartbreak - from feeling what it's like to lose everything and not being able to express it through words because it doesn't make sense.