In a dark time, the eye begins to see. — Theodore Roethke
In a dark time, the eye begins to see. — Theodore Roethke
In a dark time, the eye begins to see. — Theodore Roethke
In a dark time, the eye begins to see. — Theodore Roethke
In a dark time, the eye begins to see. — Theodore Roethke
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In a dark time, the eye begins to see.

— Theodore Roethke
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grief inspirational understanding oneself and others wisdom

More “Grief” Quotes

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
She felt that at some point she must finally and formally talk to Louisa about Hubert, and ask her to acknowledge that t — Alan Hollinghurst, The Stranger's Child
We're not going to make it," I said.The words caught in my throat, choking me. What was it Leslie had said to me when we — Brian Keene, Dark Hollow
Since she seen Fortune head in that big pot Miss Lydia say that room make her feel ill, sick with the thought of boiling — Marilyn Nelson, Fortune's Bones: The Manumission Requiem
Kenny rested his hand on my leg, patting it delicately. His thoughts staying just that, thoughts, as we drove in silence — Holly Hood, Prison of Paradise