Her tears were blinding her, the grief in her heart new, for until now she had never owned anything worth grieving for.
But his going had created a gap so huge she despaired of ever filling it.
My name is Desdemona. The word, Desdemona, means misery. It means ill fated. It means doomed.
Boys' griefs are not so grievous as our yearning,
Boys have no sadness sadder than our hope.
There is nothing pretty about grief, Rain, nor any way your witnessing mine could alleviate it.
I know you grieve by running away. By pretending you were never there.
Like most misery, it started with apparent happiness.