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

One of the things that happens to people in grief is they secretly think they're crazy, because they realize they are thinking things that don't make sense.

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

I feel like the writer observing the grief, but it is difficult to be detached from it.

The weird thing about grief, for me at least, was when each of my parents died, for a year or two afterwards I was pretty wildly brave - just willing to take life on.

In our culture I think most people think of grief as sadness, and that's certainly part of it, a large part of it, but there's also this thorniness, these edges that come out.

Where grief is fresh, any attempt to divert it only irritates.

The thing about grief is that it's a roller coaster - it's up, it's down. The emotions sometimes take over.

Grief is in two parts. The first is loss. The second is the remaking of life.

Grief is a bad moon, a sleeper wave. It's like having an inner combatant, a saboteur who, at the slightest change in the sunlight, or at the first notes of a jingle for a dog food commercial, will flick the memory switch, bringing tears to your eyes.