...when the pain subsides the grief remains. — Jonathan Brett Kennedy, Mad World
...when the pain subsides the grief remains. — Jonathan Brett Kennedy, Mad World
...when the pain subsides the grief remains. — Jonathan Brett Kennedy, Mad World
...when the pain subsides the grief remains. — Jonathan Brett Kennedy, Mad World
...when the pain subsides the grief remains. — Jonathan Brett Kennedy, Mad World
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...when the pain subsides the grief remains.

— Jonathan Brett Kennedy, Mad World
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grief loss pain

More “Grief” Quotes

He had pulled out of that grief, eventually – out from under the suffocating weight of it. Suffering had formed him: mad — Amanda Coplin, The Orchardist
Sorry doesn’t make anything better. It’s just a word to fill the space of a loss of words. — Shari J. Ryan, When Fully Fused
My pain builds like storm clouds―massive, dark, and heavy with teardrops. Moisture falls torrential as if my world is a — Richelle E. Goodrich, Making Wishes
Pattie saw grief. Her eyes focused on a version of her own young self, and so many other children in Vietnam who grew up — Holly Goldberg Sloan, Counting by 7s
There are some who would vow that life isn’t fair. They believe the worst is yet to come, that evil will always conquer — Rebecca Harris
Each substance of grief hath twenty shadows, which shows like grief itself, but is not so; or sorrow's eye, glazed with — William Shakespeare, Richard II
What was I going to do? The choices seemed basic and slim: Die. Exist. Live. I wanted to die, but with two young childre — Sukey Forbes, The Angel in My Pocket: A Story of Love, Loss, and Life After Death
Grief does not change you. It reveals you. — John Green, The Fault in Our Stars
it's easy to be forgetful when you're grieving, even forget those things that you believe most people wouldn't. — Liz Fichera, You Are Here
In Louisiana, one of the first stages of grief is eating your weight in Popeyes fried chicken. The second stage is doing — Ken Wheaton, Sweet as Cane, Salty as Tears
I am not alive if I am only a wispy memory in someone’s fickle brain . . . — Brian M. Holmes, What Are You Crying About? Defeating Grief for Christians
I climbed aboard a Greyhound bus and rode it to New York without telling anyone, without so much as a goodbye. What was — Ken Wheaton, Sweet as Cane, Salty as Tears