Definitions HQ

Grief (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠not false in its violent first expressions — one believes what one says — but later conduct usually makes those first words, once true, untrue.

Grief (n.) that ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠reflects cannot be painted: it never comes to rest, revolving like a squirrel in its cage, swinging like a pendulum, rehearsing the witnesses a hundred times and never finishing.

Grief (n.) that ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠is hidden dwells like a prisoner in a subterranean dungeon, pacing year after year the longer or shorter paths of sorrow while outwardly all is calm.

Grief (n.) when ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠immediate prints itself on the face as exactly as Veronica's handkerchief kept the holy image — its sacred script legible to all.

Grief (n.) that ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠is inward shows only through the external, like a shadowgraph — a picture invisible when looked at directly, seen only by looking at the wall.

Grief (n.) that ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠is secret, once surprised, covers itself faster than a young girl covers an exposed bosom — and like Proteus takes every shape before it must at last prophesy.

Grief (n.) over ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠being deceived never thrives: it stays a puny, wailing orphan, whereas a lover torn away would have left it a father in the memory of his faithful love.

Grief (n.) after ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠deception is a worry about sustenance: the soul too needs bread, and a love that has been betrayed has lost its power to nourish — she is anxious every day for the morrow.

Grief (n.) has ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a boundless and infinitely inventive eloquence — no voice so beguiling as the unhappiest's speaking of his own unhappiness.

Grief (n.) can ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠be wordless: Elizabeth sat ten days with a finger in her mouth, biting it in silence, and then died — a theme for a poet able to wrench the mouth open.

Grief (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠still a mood, even for your child, your beloved, your one guide, and even the wish to die in their place is a mood.

Grief (n.) that ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠would keep the dead beloved exactly as he was would, if it could, prevent him from being transfigured, which is a cruel wish.

Grief (n.) at ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a beloved's death is disgusted by talk of the globe's thousands of millions who die by thousands daily, many of them lovers; that is not vanity but seriousness.