The grief that does not speak whispers the o'erfraught heart and bids it break.

Tears are the silent language of grief

The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.

Spiteful words can hurt your feelings but silence breaks your heart.

A grief without a pang, void, dark and drear,
A drowsy, stifled, unimpassioned grief,
Which finds no natural outlet or relief,
In word, or sigh, or tear.

The sorrow which has no vent in tears may make other organs weep.

Words that weep and tears that speak.

The heart that sins must sorrow.

At grief so deep the tongue must wag in vain; the language of our sense and memory lacks the vocabulary of such pain.

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.

You're buying years of work, toil in the sun; you're buying a sorrow that can't talk.

There is a sorrow here that weeping cannot symbolize.

Against a broken heart, even absurdity falters.
Because words fall away.
A dialogue of silence.
That deafens.

To speak of sorrow
works upon it
moves it from its
crouched place barring
the way to and from the soul's hall.