Sorrows cannot all be explained away in a life truly lived, grief and loss accumulate like possessions.

When we are sad...it can be comforting to cling to familiar objects, to things that don't change.

I found that the only way I could control this sorrow was not to think of [it] at all, which was almost as painful as the loss itself.

I waited for dawn, but only because I had forgotten how hard mornings were. For a second I'd be normal. Then came the dim awareness of something off, out of place. Then the truth came crashing down and that was it for the rest of the day. Sunlight was reproof. Shouldn't I feel better than I had in the dead of night.

Why is love such a sorrowful thing, this I never could understand; passion and pain are linked together, ever I find them hand in hand.

She was a very acute observer.