A Quote by William Shakespeare

Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind
And makes it fearful and degenerate. — © William Shakespeare
Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind And makes it fearful and degenerate.
Through the years, I have combined meditation, action, and the Iron into a single strength. I believe that when the body is strong, the mind thinks strong thoughts. Time spent away from the Iron makes my mind degenerate. I wallow in a thick depression. My body shuts down my mind.
Grief drives men into habits of serious reflection, sharpens the understanding, and softens the heart
Music exalts each joy, allays each grief, expels diseases, softens every pain.
Having some form of structure to process and manage grief collectively surely helps: as someone put it to me, grief is like a landscape without a map. Another suggested that grief makes you a stranger to yourself.
Faded smiles oft linger in the face, While grief's first flakes fall silent on the heart!
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there where most it promises; and oft it hits where hope is coldest, and despair most fits.
I've often heard the complaint from both Democrat and Republican voters alike that they hate the fact that politicians get into office and they - and they're fearful, they're fearful to make tough decisions because they think more about the next election than they do about the next-generation.
Nothing violent, oft have I heard tell, can be permanent.
Acknowledgment of grief - well, it makes feeling the grief easier, not harder.
If you walk down the street and see someone in a box, you have a choice. That person is either the other and you're fearful of them, or that person is an extension of your family. And that makes you at home in that world and not fearful. So really it's very self-serving.
And oft I heard the tender dove In firry woodlands making moan.
The display of grief makes more demands than grief itself. How few men are sad in their own company.
Grief is a sign that we loved something more than ourselves. . . . Grief makes us worthy to suffer with the rest of the world.
Of all the ills that circumstance forces upon man, separation from a beloved object is, perhaps, the most salutary. Separation is the crucible wherein love undergoes the test absolute; in the fire of loss, grief softens to indifference or hardens to enduring need.
Music so softens and disarms the mind That not an arrow does resistance find.
Have you not heard it said full oft, A woman's nay doth stand for naught?
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