Aberjhani Quotes

When thinking about companions gone, we feel ourselves doubly alone.

I feel I am a child that's lost its mother. I feel like a calf whose mother has gone off to slaughter.

grief is a house that disappears each time someone knocks at the door or rings the bell a house that blows into the air at the slightest gust that buries itself deep in the ground while everyone is sleeping

Beauty is ever to the lonely mind a shadow fleeting; she is never plain. She is a visitor who leaves behind the gift of grief, the souvenir of pain.

When one by one our ties are torn, and friend from friend is snatched forlorn; when man is left alone to mourn, oh! then how sweet it is to die!

Separation penetrates the disappearing person like a pigment and steeps him in gentle radiance.

I had to go on without my mother, even though I was suffering terribly, grieving her.

When the people you love are gone, you're alone.

Grief is a world you walk through skinned, unshelled.

Being away from the game took a toll on my heart.

Sorrow's faded form, and solitude behind.

If you no longer live, if you my beloved, my love, if you have died, all the leaves will fall in my breast, it will rain in my soul night and day, the snow will burn my heart, I shall walk with frost and fire and death and snow, my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping, but I shall live

No pain could match the emptiness of separation, no agony rivaled the unreality of not being with her.

Nothing remained but loneliness and grief.

Tears were dripping onto my dress, but I wasn't making any sound. There was no sound to express thid kind of pain. I didn't want to move, didn't want to do anything. Fang was not waiting for me out in the living room. Tomorrow morning, when I woke up, Fang would still be gone.

Everything had shattered. The fact that it was all still there — the walls and the chairs and the children’s pictures on the walls — meant nothing. Every atom of it had been blasted apart and reconstituted in an instant, and its appearance of permanence and solidity was laughable; it would dissolve at a touch, for everything was suddenly tissue-thin and friable.

It’s only when you’ve lost someone that you realize the nonsense of that phrase “It’s a small world”. It isn’t. It’s a vast, devouring world, especially if you’re alone.

There is in this world in which everything wears out, everything perishes, one thing that crumbles into dust, that destroys itself still more completely, leaving behind still fewer traces of itself than Beauty: namely Grief.

When I realize that she is gone, perhaps gone forever, a great void opens up and I feel that I am falling, falling, falling into deep, black space. And this is worse than tears, deeper than regret or pain or sorrow, it is the abyss into which Satan was plunged. There is no climbing back, no ray of light, no sound of human voice or human touch of hand.

I am not so different in my history of abandonment from anyone else after all. We have all been split away from the earth, each other, ourselves.

The delta blues is a low-down, dirty shame blues. It's a sad, big wide sound, something to make you think about people who are dead or the women who left you.

Getting through the nights is the toughest part. Being alone. Not having her there to talk to.

They who go Feel not the pain of parting; it is they Who stay behind that suffer.

Widow. The word consumes itself.