I hope that tomorrow we can all, wherever we are, join in expressing our grief at Diana's loss, and gratitude for her all-too-short life. It is a chance to show to the whole world the British nation united in grief and respect.
Grief, when it comes, is nothing we expect it to be. Grief has no distance. Grief comes in waves, paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life.
Don't join too many gangs. Join few if any. Join the United States and join the family- But not much in between unless a college.
Join the bold, the brazen, the unintimidated. Join not having excuses. Join the idea that fun is the source of all joy. Join the unwillingness to give up. Join doing things your way. Join not joining. Join that purpose is stronger than outcome. Join your gut. Join the constant challenge of seeking greatness. Join play. Join the hunger to find what makes you happy. Join karma and nature and the effect you have on your world. Join your philosophy. Join something bigger than you. Join what you believe.
All you have to do is wait,” I explained. “Sit tight and wait for the right moment. Not try to change anything by force, just watch the drift of things. Make an effort to cast a fair eye on everything. If you do that, you just naturally know what to do. But everyone’s always too busy. They’re too talented, their schedules are too full. They’re too interested in themselves to think about what’s fair.
I don't think grief of grief in a medical way at all. I think that I and many of my colleagues, are very concerned when grief becomes pathological, that there is no question that grief can trigger depression in vulnerable people and there is no question that depression can make grief worse.
Do you know, Masha, how revelation comes? Like death. So sudden, though you knew all along it must occur. A revelation is always the end of something. It might even be cause for grief.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. . . .
He, that noble prize possessing He that boasts a friend that's true, He whom woman's love is blessing, Let him join the chorus too!
Life isn’t fair. It never will be. Quit trying to make it fair. You don’t need it to be fair. Go make life unfair to your advantages.
Love, Hope, and Joy, fair pleasure's smiling train, Hate, Fear, and Grief, the family of pain, These mix'd with art, and to due bounds confin'd Make and maintain the balance of the mind.
Grief and disappointment are like hate: they make men ugly with self-pity and bitterness. And how selfish they make us too.
Shall I, wasting in despair,Die because a woman's fair?Or make pale my cheeks with care,'Cause another's rosy are?Be she fairer than the day,Or the flowery meads in May,If she be not so to me,What care I how fair she be?
I make a rich woman beg, I'll make a good woman steal. I'll make an old woman blush, and make a young woman squeal.
Grief is neither a disorder nor a healing process; it is a sign of health itself, a whole and natural gesture of love. Nor must we see grief as a step toward something better. No matter how much it hurts-and it may be the greatest pain in life-grief can be an end in itself, a pure expression of love.
I know a lot of guys say that when they are younger - 'I'm gonna get it, get my money, and get out' - and then end up wrestling until they're 50. But that could end up being me, too. I can tell you I want to get out early and end up eating my own words. All of a sudden, I'm 50, and I'm still walking out there.