Quotes About Mourning

Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.

Lovers torn apart, nothing but mindless drones enslaved The cruelty makes me question just what I believed Brothers mourn their part, our hopes became so depraved This corruption makes me question just what I've conceived

Perhaps we become accustomed to our grief and, as it becomes increasingly familiar, increasingly part of the emotional landscape, it becomes a dullness. But there is no closure, no forgetting. One mourns those one has loved who have died until one joins them. It happens soon enough.

When Hercule Poirot died on that late November afternoon in 2012, a part of me died with him.

Mourning is a bitch. And it's a process. You're just not finished with it." "That's the point," she said. "I think I am. At least I want to be. I am so sick and tired of waking up feeling like someone tore off one of my limbs. Every morning, for just a few seconds, I forget. I wake up and it hasn't happened yet. There's nothing but emptiness and calm. And then it comes crashing down and I hate it. I hate it so much.

I stared down into the opengrave and wished that I could summon a tear. Violent weeping would have been in exceedingly poor taste, but Miss Nell Harbottle had been my guardian for the whole of my life, and a tear of two would have been a nice gesture of respect

Prince Albert might have been dead for a quarter of a century, but the industry of death showed no sign of slowing.

The jealousy of the dead is lasting!

I have a piece of great and sad news to tell you: I am dead.

Grief that is dazed and speechless is out of fashion: the modern woman mourns her husband loudly and tells you the whole story of his death, which distresses her so much that she forgets not the slightest detail about it.

I, his mistress, mad with grief, shall follow him...I shall share his glory. You speak of widowhood and deny me the white gown - the mourning of queens.

But whether I touch him or I run, whether I'm dreaming or I'm awake, on his birthday or on all other days, my whole life has been contaminated with the fact that he is dead.

His grief is not the same as hers.

She can't even imagine how this loss will shape the person Luca becomes. They need to do a funeral ceremony as soon as they're safe. Luca will need a ritual, a method of fashioning his grief into a thing he can exert some small control over.

Lydia stopped dancing - struck, paralyzed by a sensation of no longer being here, this night, now. A feeling that she was instead living inside a memory, of a precious place and time, one lost and greatly mourned. As strange as this was, Lydia knew what was happening to her. It could be nothing else: Already she was homesick for Arundel, and could hardly bear it.

To live is to betray the dead. We hasten to bury and forget them because we are ashamed; we feel guilty towards them.

Everybody around us was weeping. Someone began to recite Kaddish, the prayer for the dead. I don't know whether, during the history of the Jewish people, men have ever before recited Kaddish for themselves.

I thought he was talking about my grandmother. I didn't want to see her. I knew she had died - of thirst, maybe - and I was afraid she wouldn't be as I remembered her. I was afraid she wouldn't have the black shawl on her head, nor those burning tears in her eyes, nor that clear, calm expression that could make you forget you were cold.

Was there ever a death that involved no regret? ... more often than not, what he first heard in their moment of grief was the word 'should.

Most people's initial reaction to sad people is to try to cheer them up, to tell them not to look at things so grimly, to look at the bright side of life. This cheering-up reaction is often an expression of that person's own needs and that person's own inability to tolerate a long face over an extended period. A mourner should be allowed to experience his sorrow, and he will be grateful for those who can sit with him without telling him not to be sad.

Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death.

I do not believe the loss of a child is something one ever overcomes. One puts on the faces one needs, but inside, one bleeds and bleeds.

Someday you're gonna look back on this moment of your life as such a sweet time of grieving. You'll see that you were in mourning and your heart was broken, but your life was changing and you were in the best possible place in the world for it - in a beautiful place of worship, surrounded by grace. Take this time, every minute of it. Let things work themselves out here in India.

There is a limit, I have found, to how much you can mourn as "tragic" the death of an older person who has lived a rich life, and who is privileged enough to die surrounded by loved ones. There are so many worse ways to live, after all, and so many worse ways to die. From