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When a man or woman loves to brood over a sorrow and takes care to keep it green in their memory, you may be sure it is no longer a pain to them.
-Jerome K. Jerome
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When A Man Or Woman Loves To

Jerome K. Jerome
When a man or woman loves to brood over a sorrow and takes care to keep it green in their memory, you may be sure it is no longer a pain to them.
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Love Pain Memories

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And talking about dark! you think dark is just one color, but it ain't. there're five or six kinds of black. some silky, some woolly. some just empty. some like fingers. and it don't stay still, it moves and changes from one kind of black to another. saying something is pitch black is like saying something is green. what kind of green? green like my bottles? green like a grasshopper? green like a cucumber, lettuce, or green like the sky is just before it breaks loose to storm? well, night black is the same way. may as well be a rainbow.
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Grief does not end and love does not die and nothing fills its graven place. with grace, pain is transmuted into the gold of wisdom and compassion and the lesser coin of muted sadness and resignation; but something leaden of it remains, to become the kernel arond which more pain accretes (a black pearl): one pain becomes every other pain ... unless one strips away, one by one, the layers of pain to get to the heart of the pain - and this causes more pain, pain so intense as to feel like evisceration.
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We are all prone to brood on the evil done us. that brooding becomes as a gnawing and destructive canker. is there a virtue more in need of application in our time than the virtue of forgiving and forgetting? there are those who would look upon this as a sign of weakness. is it? i submit that it takes neither strength nor intelligence to brood in anger over wrongs suffered, to go through life with a spirit of vindictiveness, to dissipate one’s abilities in planning retribution. there is no peace in the nursing of a grudge. there is no happiness in living for the day when you can ‘get even.
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Recently, one friend asked me, "how can i force myself to smile when i am filled with sorrow? it isn't natural." i told her she must be able to smile to her sorrow, because we are more than our sorrow. a human being is like a television set with millions of channels. if we turn the buddha on, we are the buddha. if we turn sorrow on then we are sorrow. if we turn a smile on, we really are the smile. we can not let just one channel dominate us. we have the seed of everything in us, and we have to seize the situation in our hand, to recover our own sovereignty.
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