Barbara Kingsolver Quotes

It was the saddest day of my life.

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

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

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

Into the silence rips a sound that makes me let go of Max's hand and cover my ears. It is like the strafe of a bullet, nails on a chalkboard, promises being broken. It's a note I have never heard - this chord of pure pain - and it takes a moment to realize it is coming from me.

A heart weighs more when it splits in two; it crashes in the chest like a broken plane.

O madam, my old heart is cracked, it's cracked!

Disappointment has a name, it's heartbreak

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?

Her grief grieved her. His devastated her.

He doesn’t just look upset—he looks newly blind. There is such loss in his eyes, and it permeates every other part of his body.

To be more precise it was the color of heartache.

A hundred hundred heartbeats..." whispered Sabriel, tears falling down her face.

Grief, when it comes, is nothing we expect it to be. Grief has no distance. Grief comes in waves, paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life.

I was terribly wounded by my wife's death.

Grief is exhausting.

When Clark Gable died, I cried for 2 days straight. I couldn't eat or sleep.

If I told you the tragedy parts, we'd all sit here and cry.

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.'

To touch a sore is to renew one's grief.

When my dog Buster died, I couldn't get over it. I was in bits.

But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.

When the baby dies, On every side Rose stranger's voices, hard and harsh and loud. The baby was not wrapped in any shroud. The mother made no sound. Her head was bowed That men's eyes might not see Her misery.

Of course the death of Geoffrey has caused a lot of trauma to me generally.

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.