Unacknowledged Grief Quotes

How vivid is the suffering of the few when the people are few and how the suffering of nameless millions in two world wars is blurred over by numbers.

Grief remains one of the few things that has the power to silence us. It is a whisper in the world and a clamor within. More than sex, more than faith, even more than its usher death, grief is unspoken, publicly ignored except for those moments at the funeral that are over too quickly, or the conversations among the cognoscenti, those of us who recognize in one another a kindred chasm deep in the center of who we are.

There's nowhere in New York to go and have your emotions to yourself. People just look the other way because every day people see someone crying on the subway!

I found out when I was 18 that Dad had left my mother and the family before he realised he was ill and then died. When I asked Mum about it, she just sort of shrugged it off and said she'd thought I knew about it all along. Of course I hadn't, though I'm sure she must have been desperately unhappy at the time.

The world has no sympathy with any but positive griefs. It will pity you for what you lose; never for what you lack

I think the worst kind of grief is unacknowledged grief.

Panging is the kind of sharp pain you feel inside when you're reminded of some kind of unattended need or something that you've neglected.

I had been taught that if I cried, to be quiet about it, so whereas I never howled, the least thing made me cry both at school and at home. Crying tends to separate a child from other children, for even children dislike a cry baby, and I had no friends in the world.

The most painful and jealously guarded secrets are perhaps the ones that everyone around us knows. Stupid tragedies. Useless tears.

Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.

A miscarriage is a natural and common event. All told, probably more women have lost a child from this world than haven't. Most don't mention it, and they go on from day to day as if it hadn't happened, so people imagine a woman in this situation never really knew or loved what she had. But ask her sometime: how old would your child be now? And she'll know.

If our inward griefs were seen written on our brow, how many would be pitied who are now envied! [It., Se a ciascun l'interno affanno Si leggesse in fronte scritto, Quanti mai, che invidia fanno, Ci farebbero pieta!].

The sorrow grows bigger when the sorrow's denied.