Henry Miller Quotes

Lie still, lie still, my breaking heart; My silent heart, lie still and break: Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed For a dream's sake.

How do you go on knowing that you will never again - not ever, ever - see the person you have loved? How do you survive a single hour, a single minute, a single second of that knowledge? How do you hold yourself together?

When Michael died I was tipped over the edge. I was beyond grief.

Despair is part of love.

She'd cried over a broken heart before. She knew what that felt like, and it didn't feel like this. Her heart felt not so much broken as just ... empty. It felt like she was an outline empty in the middle. The outline cried senselessly for the absent middle. The past cried for the present that was nothing.

There was a lot they didn’t tell you about death, she had discovered, and one of the biggies was how long it took the ones you loved most to die in your heart.

He bent and laid his lips on her hands, which were cold and lifeless. She drew them away, and he turned to the door, found his coat and hat under the faint gas-light of the hall, and plunged out into the winter night bursting with the belated eloquence of the inarticulate.

In the morning there was a big wind blowing and the waves were running high up on the beach and he was awake a long time before he remembered that his heart was broken.

Laurie felt just then that his heart was entirely broken and the world a howling wilderness.

I might never breathe again once he walked away from me.

My heart is broken... I'm lying here My thoughts are choking On you my dear.

You who have inhabited me in the deepest and most broken place, are going, going

Hearts can break. Yes, hearts can break. Sometimes I think it would be better if we died when they did, but we don't.

My heart is its own grave!

The idea of losing someone that you love could throw you into a situation where you could not see your future and you really would be living in the past.

Grief does not expire like a candle or the beacon on a lighthouse. It simply changes temperature. It becomes a kind of personal weather system. Snow settles in the liver. The bowels grow thick with humidity. Ice congeals in the stomach. Frost spiderwebs in the lungs. The heart fills with warm rain that turns to mist and evaporates through a colder artery.

My thinking was scrambled when Sullivan and I separated. Something happened to me that had never happend before. I couldn't cope. It was heartbreak time. I thought it was the end of the world.

In 1957's 'There's No You,' Sinatra is suspended at the intersection of a loss he can't face and a memory he can't relinquish.

Anyone with a heart, with a family, has experienced loss. No one escapes unscathed. Every story of separation is different, but I think we all understand that basic, wrenching emotion that comes from saying goodbye, not knowing if we'll see that person again - or perhaps knowing that we won't.

When you love someone, and you've lost that one, then nothing really matters.

Grief, for me, is a moment-to-moment experience.

Whether goest, griefe? where I am wont.

My desire to live is as intense as ever, and though my heart is broken, hearts are made to be broken: that is why God sends sorrow into the world.

My heart's been torn wide open, just like I feared it would be, and I have no willpower to close it back up.