Still waters run deepest, they used to tell me. — Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom's Cabin
Still waters run deepest, they used to tell me. — Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom's Cabin
Still waters run deepest, they used to tell me. — Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom's Cabin
Still waters run deepest, they used to tell me. — Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom's Cabin
Still waters run deepest, they used to tell me. — Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom's Cabin
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Still waters run deepest, they used to tell me.

— Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom's Cabin
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More “Grief” Quotes

I know I could have saved your ashes to put into the ocean, but I wanted you to have the journey, all the way with the c — Ava Dellaira, Love Letters to the Dead
Zhuangzi's wife died. When Huizu went to convey his condolences, he found Zhuangzi sitting with his legs sprawled out, p — Zhuangzi, The Complete Works of Chuang Tzu
Grief is better than happiness, because in grief a person draws close to God. Your wings open. A tent is set up in the d — Bahauddin, The Drowned Book: Ecstatic and Earthy Reflections of the Father of Rumi
A walk is a walk and must be taken; breakfast and dinner come when they are due. The routines of the living are inviolab — Mark Doty, Dog Years
What the eye doesn't see, the heart doesn't grieve over. — Juan Gabriel Vásquez, The Sound of Things Falling
Grief was dagger-shaped and sharp and pointed inward. It was made of fresh loss and old sorrow. Rendered and forged and — Louise Penny, A Rule Against Murder
Love was holding someone's hand when you wanted to escape. — Krista Van Dolzer, The Sound of Life and Everything
His suppressed grief becomes anger. But what can he do with anger? It must also be suppressed. — Hilary Mantel, Wolf Hall
Interesting fact from the front lines: raw grief smells like ripped leaves and splintered branches, a jagged green shrie — Tana French, Broken Harbour
Grief doesn't have a face. — Cheryl Strayed, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail
Such a funny thing death is for mortals. You cry. You morn. You grieve. You get angry. But death is not always tragic, d — R.K. Ryals, Mark of the Mage
I hope I’m the ghost that belongs to her. — Courtney Summers, This is Not a Test