I wonder why bereaved people even bother with mourning clothes when the grief itself provides such an unmistakable wardrobe.

It's time for second chances. It's time to remake the world.

Grief and love are conjoined, you don't get one without the other. All I can do is love her, and love the world, emulate her by living with daring and spirit and joy.

This is what I want: I want to grab my brother’s hand and run back through time, losing years like coats falling from our shoulders.

Let me just unsubscribe to my own mind already, because I don't get any of it.

Grief is forever. It doesn't go away; it becomes part of you, step for step, breath for breath.

I heard this expression once: Each time someone dies, a library burns. I'm watching it burn right to the ground.