Unspoken Sorrow Quotes

They are the silent griefs which cut the heart-strings.

There is much pain that is quite noiseless; and vibrations that make human agonies are often a mere whisper in the roar of hurrying existence. There are glances of hatred that stab and raise no cry of murder; robberies that leave man or woman for ever beggared of peace and joy, yet kept secret by the sufferer --committed to no sound except that of low moans in the night, seen in no writing except that made on the face by the slow months of suppressed anguish and early morning tears. Many an inherited sorrow that has marred a life has been breathed into no human ear.

My words in her mind: cold polished stones sinking through a quagmire.

My mother's mild-eyed sadness looks at me from the eyes of those I love.

In secret we met - In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? - With silence and tears

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.

Dad was wiped from our lives. The day after he died, every photo of him disappeared from the house. It was as if he'd never existed. Me and my brothers weren't even allowed to go to his funeral. His death was made absolute.

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

If you suppress grief too much, it can well redouble.

He had to deal all at once with the packed regrets and stifled memories of an inarticulate lifetime.

Many an inherited sorrow that has marred a life has been breathed into no human ear.

I have learned now that while those who speak about one's miseries usually hurt, those who keep silence hurt more.

It's [a miscarriage] all very thief-in-the-night. No one really knows what to say. You go into the emergency room, you think you're going to be a mum and you walk out empty. It's all neat and tidy, there's this potential being in your life and you're empty - all cleaned up and put back together, but completely shattered.

Let the veil of silence fall presently over what happened afterwards. Silence, too, can speak out.

The greatest griefs are silent.

Sorrow you can hold, however desolating, if nobody speaks to you. If they speak, you break down.

Lots of hurtful secrets are better off kept. The problem is that people find it so hard to keep them.

Hearts can break and never make a sound.

Had I not been bound to silence I could have provided proof enough of a broken heart, even for you.

There's nothing more painful than something that's superficially upbeat but you can kind of tell behind it that there's a cynicism, or even a bitterness.

A pity beyond all telling is hid in the heart of love.

There is no greater agony than carrying the burden of an untold story.

My parents wanted me to solace them for sorrows they denied having had.

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.