I am always at a loss at how much to believe of my own stories.

When my brother called to inform me, on the morning of May 22, 2003, that our mother Caroline Oates had died suddenly of a stroke, it was a shock from which, in a way, I have yet to recover.

There is only one thing in this world shittier than biting it from cancer when you're sixteen, and that's having a kid who bites it from cancer.

They wouldn't have understood if they found him crying, when he woke and remembered all at once that he had once had a wife and child, so they never found him this way.

Isaac stopped her at the bottom of the stairs with a crooked smile. I would wish you sweet dreams, but how can they be memorable if I won't be in them?

She disappeared; her voice, her laughter and the warmth of her breath never seen by no one again.

I need to remember what they look like. I try to hold them still behind my eyes, their faces, like pictures in an album. But they won't stay still for me, they move, there's a smile and it's gone,...

They say that when you're about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. They never tell you that when you watch someone you once loved dying, hovering between this life and the next, it's twice as...

She had a sense of longing and loss that she had never had before. It was as if her family history had been erased and they'd been left unmemorable. She imagined that Rachel's family must have similar...

I do not know, nor do I care to remember The time in which I knew distinctly that you were gone You fade in and out of memory Upon which I can not feign to touch Or feel How cruel to leave me With...

Sorrow eats time. Be patient. Time eats sorrow.

I am afraid of losing what I have already valued.

There's always a last time. If you could remember every last time, you'd never stop grieving.

How was it possible to miss something you no longer wanted? Blaine needed what she was unable to give and she needed what he was unable to give, and she grieved this, the loss of what could have been.

Women have often been in my life, but none of them managed to instill in me the dreams I once shared with Kate in the doctor's kitchen. I suppose all of that died with her; and if it might seem...

I didn't know whether to feel angry at her for making me part of her suicide or just to feel angry at myself for letting her go.

Will closed his eyes. He could not hear Jem go, not anymore; he did not want to know the moment when he left and Will was alone, did not want to know when his first day as a Shadowhunter without a...

Until recently, I lived in a world where lost things could always be replaced. But it has been made overwhelmingly clear to me now that anything you think is yours by right can vanish, and what you...

You know, no one ever appreciates you until you're gone.

Spoilers. - River...

Grieving, like being blind, is a strange business; you have to learn how to do it. We seek company in mourning, but after the early bursts of tears, after the praises have been spoken, and the good...

The whole school was in shock when he died. Just six months earlier, another guy from school died. Everyone went on about too much tragedy. Want to know about tragedy? Come to my house. A year later,...

Grief is a most peculiar thing; we're so helpless in the face of it.

Those intricate curves and patterns your people create are beyond human eyes and hands to make. Perhaps we wished to avoid a poor imitation that would only have been an ever-present reminder to us of...

That alas is the way it goes; Something we must rectify. Paul, not Caro, would interpret the degree of meaning in their respective lots. That had been decided, as he sat speaking intimately of his...

She is nine, beloved, as open-faced as the sky and as self-contained. I have watched her grow. As recently as three or four years ago, she had a young child's perfectly shallow receptiveness; she...

He could not construct for the child's pleasure the world he'd lost without constructing the loss as well and he thought perhaps the child had known this better than he.

The maid found a handkerchief of hers, under the bed in which she had died. A ring that had been missing turned up in his own writing desk. A tradesman arrived with fabric she had ordered three weeks...

...this is what death does to you, it takes and takes, so that all that is left of your memories is a faint tracing of spilled ash.

The spiritual and the physical had been blended in us with a perfection that must remain incomprehensible to the matter-of-fact, crude, standard-brained youngsters of today. Long after her death I...