She heard him mutter, 'Can you take away this grief?''I'm sorry,' she replied. 'Everyone asks me. And I would not do so — Terry Pratchett, I Shall Wear Midnight
She heard him mutter, 'Can you take away this grief?''I'm sorry,' she replied. 'Everyone asks me. And I would not do so — Terry Pratchett, I Shall Wear Midnight
She heard him mutter, 'Can you take away this grief?''I'm sorry,' she replied. 'Everyone asks me. And I would not do so — Terry Pratchett, I Shall Wear Midnight
She heard him mutter, 'Can you take away this grief?''I'm sorry,' she replied. 'Everyone asks me. And I would not do so — Terry Pratchett, I Shall Wear Midnight
She heard him mutter, 'Can you take away this grief?''I'm sorry,' she replied. 'Everyone asks me. And I would not do so — Terry Pratchett, I Shall Wear Midnight
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She heard him mutter, 'Can you take away this grief?''I'm sorry,' she replied. 'Everyone asks me. And I would not do so even if I knew how. It belongs to you. Only time and tears take away grief; that is what they are for.

— Terry Pratchett, I Shall Wear Midnight
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More “Grief” Quotes

Sooner or later, all talk among foreigners in Pyongyang turns to one imponderable subject. Do the locals really believe — Christopher Hitchens, Love, Poverty, and War: Journeys and Essays
She lost much of her appetite. At night, an invisible hand kept shaking her awake every few hours. Grief was physiologic — Jeffrey Eugenides, The Marriage Plot
And his good wife will tear her cheeks in grief, his sons are orphans and he, soaking the soil red with his own blood, h — Homer, The Iliad
I transform "Work" in its analytic meaning (the Work of Mourning, the Dream-Work) into the real "Work" - of writing. — Roland Barthes, Mourning Diary
My soule, poore soule thou talkes of things/ Thou knowest not what, my soule hath sliver wings,/ That mounts me up unto — Thomas Kyd, The Spanish Tragedy
When a man's eyes are sore his friends do not let him finger them, however much he wishes to, nor do they themselves tou — Plutarch, In Consolation to His Wife
-(I)n memory, remorse wraps the self. — Claudia Rankine, The End of the Alphabet: Poems
It is poor solace to speak of the passing of time and grief," the master said. His quiet voice had gone somehow bleak, t — Rachel Neumeier, The Floating Islands
. . . I understand that I was writing (recording) as well as seeking to right (to rectify) the wrong, and now, as I rete — Sandra M. Gilbert, Death's Door: Modern Dying and the Ways We Grieve
Royal summoned mourners. They came from the village, from the neighboring hills and, wailing like dogs at midnight, laid — Truman Capote, House of Flowers
for my grief's so greatThat no supporter but the huge firm earthCan hold it up: here I and sorrows sit;Here is my throne — William Shakespeare
In this way unwittingly the Widow-to-Be is assuring her husband’s death—his doom. Even as she believes she is behaving i — Joyce Carol Oates, A Widow's Story