Quotes About Healing

She closed her eyes and put her hands over her face. Dear God, he had suffered too.

All that had happened would not have happened. She would not be raw with pain. She would be safely content.

The urge to reach for him, to try to somehow soothe him for the loss of a mother years and years ago was almost irresistible.

But she had been too wrapped up with painful memory, uncomfortable reality.

Elizabeth had tried to hate him in that first year when the pain had been intense enough to drive her almost out of her mind. But even then she had not been able to. The best she could do eventually was to dull all feeling, so that a mere empty ache would gnaw at her when her mind strayed to that episode in her life. She had trained herself to think of him, if at all, as he was at the beginning of their relationship.

But to see him again. To somehow free myself of the past completely.

No es fácil mirar el propio pasado, sobre todo cuando uno creía que se habían borrado todas las huellas.

Guilt can eat away at you and destroy the future as well as the past.

She tried not to think. She tried to allow the quietness and the dusk to soothe her and heal her.

I cannot bring you a whole heart, sir, and I fear that the future will always be clouded by the experiences of the past.

A great deal of good had happened. The past had been explained and forgiven. The bitterness of years had been purged. There could be some peace now for two people because he had come home.

I thought I had forgotten . . . But maybe I just pushed it deep and denied it and let it fester.

En ocasiones necesitamos tiempo para adquirir sabiduría y reparar los errores del pasado

Then I thought that once my year of mourning was over and I put off my blacks, I would also put off the worst of my grief. And perhaps that has happened. But sometimes I think that grief is preferable to emptiness. At least grief is something. I have come to realize, I suppose, that they are not just dead. They are gone. There is nothing there where they were.

Get angry, Elizabeth. Curse him. Yell. But don't keep on grieving like this. Please, love.

I had to forget you, force you from my thoughts and my heart. I could not have stayed sane else.

He had held her close for a full, silent hour, rocking her against him, soothing her numb pain, crying for both her and himself, though she herself had been unable to know the relief of tears.

Time didn't heal all wounds. Counseling certainly helped glue the broken pieces back together, but mended cracks remained vulnerable forever.

Cleansing our emotional poison is a simple process. All it takes is the thought of love and our breath. We hold the wound in our mind briefly. Then we breathe deliberately while thinking of the word love. We can apply this cleansing routine to old wounds and new ones. When we clean a wound, it heals itself. We cannot clean a wound by sharing the poison with someone else. Such an action increases the poison.

Whatever we recall, if we respond to it with love, we can transform even those memories we think of as injustices. With love we go into forgiveness. We forgive what happened and we forgive ourselves. The result is that our agreement changes and we recover a little more of the totality of ourselves.

His greatest satisfaction as a priest was to grant absolution, to help people forgive themselves for not being perfect, make amends, and get on with life.

There was a real sweetness to that man: a special sort of gentleness that you see sometimes in people who've been hurt bad but don't want revenge. [Bessie about James]

What he experienced was not so much the beginning of love as a cessation of pain.

It's funny how, even long after you've accepted the grief of losing someone you love and truly have gotten on with your life, every once in a while something comes up that plays gotcha, and for a moment or tow the car tissue seperates and the wound is raw again.