Angelina Jolie Quotes

Those who grieve find comfort in weeping and in arousing their sorrow until the body is too tired to bear the inner emotions.

She did not want to talk of her sorrow, but with that sorrow in her heart she could not talk of outside matters.

My heart is heavy, she thought. It’s not just a saying. It is what is—heavy, a great stone lodged in my breast, pressing down my whole being. How can I even stand straight and look out upon the world? I am doubled over into myself and, for all the weight, find only emptiness.

You might find it difficult to see anything but your own sadness, the way smoke can cover a landscape so that all anyone can see is black. You may find that if someone pours water all over you, you are damp and distracted, but not cured of your sadness, the way a fire department can douse a fire but never recover what has been burnt down.

For I need this scar over my heart to remind me. Crazy as it sounds, if I can bear the wound on my body, it lessens what I must carry on my soul. How he knew that about me, I cannot fathom.

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

My bones are tired from all the tragedy in me.

How could you go about choosing something that would hold the half of your heart you had to bury?

It is said that scattered through Despair's domain are a multitude of tiny windows, hanging in the void. Each window looks out onto a different scene, being, in our world, a mirror. Sometimes you will look into a mirror and feel the eyes of Despair upon you, feel her hook catch and snag on your heart.

Griefs, at the moment when they change into ideas, lose some of their power to injure our heart.

I kept thinking how marvellous it would be if I could somehow tear my heart, which felt so heavy, out of my chest.

So much wanting and longing, clutching, desiring, passion and hatred and terrible need. Here, death was suitable, there was room for it, the grip of life's relentless urges slackened, replaced by this icy simplicity. This wasnt her death. It was his. That was the sad and honest truth. Though it would stay with her, it would be more like a black onyx heart on a silver chain, worn privately, under her clothes, close to her body, all her life. The guilt, the beauty, everything. It wasnt over, it had only begun. Well ok then, Okay.

If there is an evil in this world, it is sorrow and heaviness of heart. The loss of goods, of health, of coronets and mitres, is only evil as they occasion sorrow; take that out, the rest is fancy, and dwelleth only in the head of man.

I stood still, vision blurring, and in that moment, I heard my heart break. It was a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower's stem.

I want to cry because something terrible happened, and I saw it, and I could not see a way to mend it.

What uniform can I wear to hide my heavy heart? It is too heavy. It will always show.

Grief is a matter of the heart and soul. Grieve your loss, allow it in, and spend time with it.

Delia picked at the raw sores of her conscience...Drunk or sober, Delia lived in the small town in her heart, ignoring the world in which all her love had turned to grief.

A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue.

Grief held back from the lips wears at the heart; the drop that refused to join the river dried up in the dust.

She was tired of being the one who cried.

Grief heals ... unshed tears fester like a canker in the soul.

Grief dejects and wrings the tortured soul.