“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.”

“The grief that does not speak whispers the o'erfraught heart and bids it break.”

“for my grief's so greatThat no supporter but the huge firm earthCan hold it up: here I and sorrows sit;Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.(Constance, from King John, Act III, scene 1)”

“O,speak to me no more;these words like daggers enter my ears.(a fancy way of saying SHUT UP!)" — William Shakespeare "hamlet”

“Verily, I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born, and range with humble livers in content, than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, and wear a golden sorrow.”

“I pray thee, cease thy counsel,Which falls into mine ears as profitlessAs water in a sieve: give not me counsel;Nor let no comforter delight mine earBut such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine:... for, brother, menCan counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it,Their counsel turns to passion, which beforeWould give preceptial medicine to rage,Fetter strong madness in a silken thread,Charm ache with air and agony with words.No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patienceTo those that wring under the load of sorrow,But no man's virtue nor sufficiencyTo be so moral when he shall endureThe like himself. Therefore give me no counsel:My griefs cry louder than advertisement.”

“Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak Of one that loved not wisely but too well; Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought”