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A death from a long illness is very different from a sudden death. It gives you time to say goodbye and time to adjust to the idea that the beloved will not be with you anymore.

Passionate hatred can give meaning and purpose to an empty life.

Love and death are the two great hinges on which all human sympathies turn.

Excess of grief for the dead is madness; for it is an injury to the living, and the dead know it not.

Our culture has become increasingly intolerant of that acute sorrow, that intense mental anguish and deep remorse which may be defined as grief. We want to medicate such sorrow away.

One feels as if it could never, never be less. And yet all griefs, when there is no bitterness in them, are soothed down by time.

There is a kind of euphoria of grief, a degree of madness.

It's very shocking, I think, for people caring for the dying to realise how unsaintly they feel, how much anger is mixed up with their grief. In fact, often I think the anger that they feel is a form of grief; it's a kind of raging against what's happening.

Grief causes suffering and disease.