Grief can’t be shared. Everyone carries it alone. His own burden in his own way.
Excess of grief for the dead is madness for it is an injury to the living, and the dead know it not.
It is foolish to tear one’s hair in grief, as though sorrow would be made less by baldness.
I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.
Grief knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can and common sufferings are far stronger links than common joys.
Life has never been easy. Nor is it meant to be. It is a matter of being joyous in the face of sorrow.