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grief giving feelings
Grief ... gives life a permanently provisional feeling. It doesn't seem worth starting anything. I can't settle down. I yawn, I fidget, I smoke too much. Up till this I always had too little time. Now there is nothing but time. Almost pure time, empty successiveness. C. S. Lewis
grief sorrow maps
I thought I could describe a state; make a map of sorrow. Sorrow, hoever, turns out to be not a state but a process. C. S. Lewis
grief bears trouble
A dead grief is easier to bear than a live trouble. Agnes Repplier
grief eye strange
Strange that grief should now almost choke me, because another human being's eye has failed to greet mine. Charlotte Bronte
grief sea people
Reserved people often really need the frank discussion of their sentiments and griefs more than the expansive. The sternest-seeming stoic is human after all, and to burst with boldness and good-will into the silent sea of their souls is often to confer on them the first of obligations. Charlotte Bronte
grief struggle mastery
The vehemence of emotion, stirred by grief and love within me, was claiming mastery, and struggling for full sway; and asserting a right to predominate: to overcome, to live, rise, and reign at last; yes,--and to speak. Charlotte Bronte
grief moving men
Your tale is of the longest," observed Monks, moving restlessly in his chair. It is a true tale of grief and trial, and sorrow, young man," returned Mr. Brownlow, "and such tales usually are; if it were one of unmixed joy and happiness, it would be very brief. Charles Dickens
grief loss grieving
And can it be that in a world so full and busy the loss of one creature makes a void so wide and deep that nothing but the width and depth of eternity can fill it up! Charles Dickens
grief rain air
A blight had fallen on the trees and shrubs; and the wind, at length beginning to break the unnatural stillness that had prevailed all day, sighed heavily from time to time, as though foretelling in grief the ravages of the coming storm. The bat skimmed in fantastic flights through the heavy air, and the ground was alive with crawling things, whose instinct brought them forth to swell and fatten in the rain. Charles Dickens