C. S. Lewis
1624 citations

For in grief nothing stays put. One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral? But if a spiral, am I going up or down it? How often -- will it be for always? -- how often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty and make me say, I never realized my loss till this moment? The same leg is cut off time after time. ✨ C.S. Lewis (2012). A Grief Observed, p.28, Faber & Faber

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