Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Uncarved. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Uncarved Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including Lailah Gifty Akita,Bree Despain,Michael S. Harper,Abigail Mccarthy,Barry Unsworth for you to enjoy and share.
May the crushed spirit revived.
You were always such a saint ... and now you're lost.
A woman who'd lost her first son
consoled us with an angel gone ahead
to pray for our family
gone into that sky
seeking oxygen,
gone into autopsy
One is not allowed a grief for a life never lived. Yet one has buried the fruit of love, and a great deal of hope and many dreams.
Grief works its own perversions and betrayals; the shape of what we have lost is as subject to corruption as the mortal body ...
May the Lord restore your soul.
She already felt dead in everything but name. What remained to be taken from her? She longed to be enfolded, welcomed, into the earth - to breathe no more, love no more, hurt no more
I mourned for a life that I'd lost.
He's dead."
"His deliverance has come," said someone else.
"The two friends have parted and returned to their homes," a third person whispered, "the flesh to the soil and the soul to God.
Blessed are the sat upon, spat upon, ratted on.
Come to the conclusion: I am unborn, I was unborn and I shall remain unborn
Like Lazarus lying motionless in the tomb, the unredeemed soul remains lifeless until the voice of God commands it, "Come forth!
Enough human sorrow had been aired on this bench below them over the centuries for them to understand when a mother mistook a daughter for a part of herself, a part that stood for something she did not like. Two people suffer whenever that mistake is made. Blank
What unthankfulness is it to forget our consolations, and to look upon matters of grievance. To think so much upon two or three crosses as to forget an hundred blessing.
When some one mortal yet eternal human merely being relying on precisely nothing but the audacious love of his Maker, calls on Him to part the Heavens, well, we are undone.
By unnerving definition, anything that the heart has chosen for its own mysterious reasons it can always unchoose later - again, for its own mysterious reasons.
found three thousand Unsullied
Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.
With a grief no less sharp for not being intimate with its object.
Heaven lent you a soul, Earth will lend a grave.
unfavorable feeling,
My soul wandered, happy, sad, unending.
Dead. Never been that before. Not even once.
Dead. It sounds final but it's a word missing an ing.
Once again I had the desolating sense of having all along ignored what was finest in him. Perhaps it was just the incongruity of seeing him aloft and stricken, since he was by nature someone who carried others. I didn't think he knew how to act or even how to feel as the object of help.
There is no compensation for the woman who feels that the chief relation of her life has been no more than a mistake. She has lost her crown. The deepest secret of human blessedness has half whispered itself to her, and then forever passed her by.
Touch'd either the Passions of Rage or Grief to a Miracle.
Wounded, not lost.
For you died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.
Grieve not the Christ of God, who redeems us; and remember that we grieve Him most when we will not let Him pour His love upon us, but turn a sullen, unresponsive unbelief towards His pleading grace, as some glacier shuts out the sunshine from the mountain-side with its thick-ribbed ice.
Devastated should be reserved for mothers
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.
unrequitted love amuses me
I did not want to cry any more. Instead I felt hollow, empty, as if all the meaning had been sucked out of me and I was drifting, light as a skeleton leaf, at the mercy of the four winds. I was drained of tears.
The Soul is shriveled up and buried in a grave that does not love.
We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence.
I felt numb, I felt empty. I was a shell, an abandoned chrysalis, a tomb lying in wait for the dead
Struck dead by an angel of God! Yet the angel must hang!
I've been buried alive!
No longer can I bear with the ruined god, betrayed and beaten by his own magic. Calling on powers best left unsummoned, he took human beings apart - and then he put them back together again.
God took a child from me, darling Ove. But he gave me a thousand others.
Not merely godforsaken, I feel forsaken by everyone.
The twin guardian angels whose eyes and hands and wings had focused protective attention on the souls that lay there no longer faced each other. They stared blindly into a random middle distance. The scroll they held between them proclaiming eternal resurrection was broken in two.
Stunned and still not suffering. Swollen with care and anxiety and still not suffering. Useless, old and full of grief, but still not suffering.
How impotent my anger was, a surge with no place to land, and how familiar that was: my feelings strangled inside me, like little half-formed children, bitter and bristling.
A cut scarred where a caress faded away.
Grief is terror, in its most undiluted form.
The cemetery of the victims of human cruelty in our century is extended to include yet another vast cemetery, that of the unborn.
My heart felt withered, a neglected fruit that would never again sweeten, now that my love was dead.
By Heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate; And with my hand I seal my true heart's love
First I was decayed, I was putrefied. Kept thinking I could never live on, now that I had died...
The day misspent,
the love misplaced,
has inside it
the seed of redemption.
Nothing is exempt
from resurrection.
He felt he had lost it for good, he knew what it was to have been in communication with her, and to be cast off again. In misery, his heart like a heavy stone, he went about unliving.
If it were possible to talk to the unborn, one could never explain to them how it feels to be alive, for life is washed in the speechless real.
Grief is not graceful.
There's a ghost in this house! An unquiet spirit!"
Unquiet spirit?" Shane said under his breath. "Is that politically correct for pissed off? You know, like Undead American or something?
My mother's death supervened, and this was the greatest blow I had experienced in my life. I worshipped her ... I could not resign myself to the loss of a being on whom I counted to make invisible the unavoidable blemishes of my soul.
I find my anger ebbing away, and I'm lost in muffled grief again, this time not just for Tris, but for Uriah, whose smile is burned into my memory. My friend's brother, and then my friend, too, though not for long enough to let his humor work its way into me, not for long enough.
Beloved, till life can charm no more; And mourned, till Pity's self be dead.
Wound me ... I can only feed on my humiliated blood.
One sometimes weeps over one's illusions with as much bitterness as over a death.
Eyes wide and blank as the buttons on a first Communion coat.
I've done no injustice, and I repent of nothing. I'm too happy; and yet I'm not happy enough. My soul's bliss kills my body, but does not satisfy itself.
Only the dead can be forgiven; But when I think of that my tongue's a stone.
As a god self-slain on his own strange altar, Death lies dead.
I realized that whilst crying over the loss, the living did not seem adequate because they were not my loved one. The room full of strangers hurt me profusely. Even as I saw thousands of young people; I felt incomplete and more saddened because the one I wanted to see was buried.
In mercy, God has called you and saved, healed, blessed and delivered you.
I received mercy, because in my unbelief I didn't know what I was doing.
Grief heals ... unshed tears fester like a canker in the soul.
She'd been shunned by the living and betrayed by the dead.
All has gone to rest, and I don't know whether I'm alive or will live or whether I'm rushing like this through the world for I'm not longer weeping or laughing
I'm wild again, beguiled again, a whimpering, simpering child again. Bewitched, bothered, bewildered am I.
When Ragnuk killed you, I looked for you everywhere. But you didn't come back. For decades I looked for you, terrified the angels were punishing me for letting you die alone. I thought that you'd never come back to me
that I'd lost you forever.
Each life unfulfilled, you see;
It hangs still, patchy and scrappy:
We have not sighed deep, laughed free,
Starved, feasted, despaired, - been happy.
Drowned, dead, duplicitous slut!
You were tossed away like a pair of beautiful, brand new shoes that did not quite fit.
My soul insists that I mourn not a man but a child.
That was the justice of Heaven. I trust that you are not dismayed.
My child died last night - and now I shall be alone again, if I must really go on living. They will come tomorrow, strange, hulking, black-clad men bringing a coffin, and they will put him in it, my poor boy, my only child.
Will was dead, but Missouri Ann was going to have a baby. Birth and death were God's way, she told herself. Joy and sorrow were joined together.
conceived and held up to the angry
Sometimes it feels what I recovered you lost, sending your peaceful loss to me.
So much to rue, but to what end? All unlived lives cancel one another out.
In all the silent manliness of grief.
This was not a loss that could be shared. Grief was a place every person had to go alone, a lonely country populated by mistakes and a futile desire to turn back time for an impossible do-over.
Injustice lives in the unquiet heart.
I had enjoyed something that did not belong to me, you see. When it was taken away, I was disappointed but not harmed.
It's sad to wander about the graveyard of my tired memory, where all hurts have been forgiven, where every sin has been more that atoned for, every riddle unriddled and twilight quietly cloaks the crosses, now no longer upright, of graves I once wept over.
Unchanged hearts are unled spirits.
May the Lord heal the broken hearted.
The bereaved cannot communicate with the unbereaved.
I am unattached; My heart is very quiet.
There was nothing more bitter than a soul who had had its chance and thrown it away.
I want to know if you've touched the center of your own sorrow, if you've been opened by life's betrayals, or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.
Grief dejects and wrings the tortured soul.
I got my heart broken. My spirit got shattered and mutilated. I will not be coming back from this. I don't want to.
Some of your griefs you have cured,
And the sharpest you still have survived,
But what torments of grief you've endured
From evils that never arrived.
There is no bitterness like that of man who finds out he has been believing in a ghost.
How futile are words in the ears of those who mourn.
No mark survives this place: you too will yield
to unmemory.