You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses tog — David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
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You wrote in a poem, “I love your body,” as if love was for you embodied in the senses, and yet more than the senses together, an enveloping sense itself sensuous, as if all the body made sense.

— David Plante, The Pure Lover: A Memoir of Grief
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A healing heart has no time frame. — Nikki Rowe
The bereaved need more than just the space to grieve the loss. They also need the space to grieve the transition. — Lynda Cheldelin Fell
And then our Mum and Dad were in love and they were truly dry-stone strong and durable and people speak of ease and joy — Max Porter, Grief is the Thing with Feathers
Life… has a way of testing the fault line — Josephine Hart
Death had marked his family with unbreakable black halos, until only two remained. — R. W. Patterson
At first I thought he was laughing because his shoulders were shaking, but then he put his palms on his eyes and I reali — R.J. Palacio
Killing me will not end your grief. It will only create more of it. — Elizabeth Carlton, Chivalry's Code
It must be terrible to be old, when you love someone who died young. They never change in your mind, and every day you s — Paul Kearney, The Wolf in the Attic
It was only one man who had gone, but it felt like forever, something so permanent and unstoppable that it blasted her. — Jenny Downham
That night, before bed, he goes first to Willem's side of the closet, which he has still not emptied. Here are Willem's — Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life
The idea that a loss will get easier as time passes, is complete bullshit. It doesn’t get easier; you just learn to func — S.D. Hendrickson, The Mason List
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