
We are never finished with grief. It is part of the fabric of living. Love makes memories and life precious; the grief that comes to us is proportionate to that love and is inescapable.
V. S. Naipaul, “The Strangeness of Grief,” The New Yorker

We are never finished with grief. It is part of the fabric of living. Love makes memories and life precious; the grief that comes to us is proportionate to that love and is inescapable.
V. S. Naipaul, “The Strangeness of Grief,” The New Yorker
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