“My grief was cold. It was nothing to share. It was nothing to speak about, nothing to feel.”
“Nothing made you feel so useless as another person's grief.”
“A special form of misery had begun to oppress him of late. There was nothing poignant, nothing acute about it; but there was a feeling of permanence, of eternity about it; it brought a foretaste of hopeless years of this cold leaden misery, a foretaste of an eternity "on a square yard of space.”
“Between grief and nothing, I will take grief.”
“Grief is a sword, or it is nothing.”
“Sometimes I find myself sitting in one spot for hours, staring at nothing, thinking of nothing, feeling nothing, and most disturbingly, caring about nothing.”