Those griefs burn most which gall in secret.
The son of the victim, you know, has been virtually forgotten until recently.
I didn't have to say it. I just had to write it. It was painful enough.
There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.
What annoyances are more painful than those of which we cannot complain?
There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.
The greatest griefs are silent.
[S]he leans into this guy and rocks her head like I’m making this music for her, when if I could, I would take it all away and give her as much silence as she’s given me pain.
My wife had a miscarriage. We have rarely talked about it. It did make me more aware of the sanctity of human life, how precious every child is.
The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask It's hard to see the pain behind the mask Bearing the burden of a secret storm Sometimes she wishes she was never born
When you read about a car crash in which two or three youngsters are killed, do you pause to dwell on the amount of love and treasure and patience parents poured into bodies no longer suitable for open caskets?
No one understands my ills, nor the terror that fills my breast, who does not know the heart of a mother.
Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning. I was much further out than you thought, and not waving but drowning. I was much too far out all my life, And not waving but drowning.
Sorrow is so easy to express and yet so hard to tell.
There are hurts so deep that one cannot reach them or heal them with words.
