There is not any advantage to be won from grim lamentation.

Great grief is a divine and terrible radiance which transfigures the wretched.

When a man or woman loves to brood over a sorrow and takes care to keep it green in their memory, you may be sure it is no longer a pain to them.

Grief is a species of idleness.

While grief is fresh, every attempt to divert only irritates.

Real sorrow is incompatible with hope. No matter how great that sorrow may be, hope raises it one hundred cubits higher.

We collected in a group in front of their door, and we experienced within ourselves a grief that was new for us, the ancient grief of the people that has no land, the grief without hope of the exodus which is renewed in every century.

Grief can't be shared. Everyone carries it alone, his own burden, his own way.

Take this sorrow to thy heart, and make it a part of thee, and it shall nourish thee till thou art strong again.

The first pressure of sorrow crushes out from our hearts the best wine; afterwards the constant weight of it brings forth bitterness, the taste and stain from the lees of the vat.