Grief Is A Most Peculiar Thing; We’re So Helpless In The Face Of It. It’s Like A Window That Will Simply Open Of Its Own Accord. The Room Grows Cold, And We Can Do Nothing But Shiver. But It Opens A Little Less Each Time, And A Little Less; And One Day We Wonder What Has Become Of It.
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Grief Is A Most Peculiar Thing; We’re
Arthur Golden
Grief Is A Most Peculiar Thing; We’re So Helpless In The Face Of It. It’s Like A Window That Will Simply Open Of Its Own Accord. The Room Grows Cold, And We Can Do Nothing But Shiver. But It Opens A Little Less Each Time, And A Little Less; And One Day We Wonder What Has Become Of It.
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