Quotes About Mourning

Hoy, aún no sé dónde llevarle unas flores a su tumba.

When the person you love has died, any indication that they once lived is received gratefully, or alternatively, you want to pretend that nothing good has ever taken place in the world.

Help when you can; do everything then— but when you can no longer do anything, forget it! Turn away! Pull yourself together. Compassion is meant for quiet times. Not when life is at stake. Bury the dead and devour life! You'll still need it. Mourning is one thing, facts are another. One doesn't mourn less when one sees the facts and accepts them. That is how one survives.

it would be like gazing at the photograph of a dead comrade; those are his features, it is his face, and the days we spent together take on a mournful life in the memory; but the man himself it is not.

It was a difficult ride for him. He had passed this way before, to bury John Root. The fair had begun with death, and now it had ended with death.

Long before the fair's end, people began mourning its inevitable passage. Mary Hartwell Catherwood wrote, "What shall we do when this Wonderland is closed?—when it disappears—when the enchantment comes to an end?" One lady manager, Sallie Cotton of North Carolina, a mother of six children staying in Chicago for the summer, captured in her diary a common worry: that after seeing the fair, "everything will seem small and insignificant.

I went into the room and stayed with Catherine until she died. She was unconscious all the time, and it did not take her very long to die.

Grief doesn't split.

I've observed an interesting connection between my patients' responses to betrayal and the type of justice they are likely to seek. Some mourn the loss of the connection. "I'm hurt because I lost you." Others mourn the loss of face. "I can't believe you made such an idiot of me." One is a relational injury; the second, a narcissistic one. Wounded hearts; wounded pride.

There was a deep boom, like the rolling in of an ocean wave. The hearse door had been slammed shut.

She felt as though in death her father had been asked to bear the weight of that raised lid himself, and hold it up by lying there, the same way he'd lain on the hospital bed and counted the minutes and the hours to make his life go by. She stood by the coffin as she had by his bed, waiting it out with him.

Even if you have kept silent for the sake of the dead, you cannot rest in your silence, as the dead rest.

The dead boy floats by.

I saw you dead.

There is a vast melancholy in the canticles of the wolves, melancholy infinite as the forest, endless as these long nights of winter and yet that ghastly sadness, that mourning for their own, irremediable appetites, can never move the heart for not one phrase in it hints at the possibility of redemption.

There is a vast melancholy in the canticles of the wolves, melancholy infinite as the forest, endless as these long nights of winter and yet that ghastly sadness, that mourning for their own, irremediable appetites, can never move the heart for not one phrase in it hints at the possibility of redemption; grace could not come to the world from its own despair, only through some external mediator, so that, sometimes, the beast will look as if he half welcomes the knife that despatches him.

slave. And behold, our holy place, our beauty, and our glory have been laid waste; the Gentiles have profaned it. Why should we live any longer?" And Mattathias and his sons rent their clothes, put on sackcloth, and mourned greatly. 1 Maccabees 2:1–14

The Torah has set limits for every stage of grief: three days for weeping, seven

for lamentation, and thirty for abstaining from laundered garments and from cutting the hair. The sages say that one should not grieve too much for the dead, and whoever grieves excessively is really grieving for someone else.

She's dead!" Marcia gasped. And then, much more dismayed, she cried, "She's dead on my sofa!

Sydney discovers that she minds the loss of her mourning. When she grieved, she felt herself to be intimately connected to Daniel. But with each passing day, he floats away from her. When she thinks about him now, it is more as a lost possibility than as a man. She has forgotten his breath, his musculature.

It was sudden thoughts about the things Maggie would have liked or pieces of gossip that he'd like to pass on that made grief come back and bite him on the bum.

the unfinished grieving, the foul, flat country.

For thousands of years, we did have death surrounding us, and we did have people die in the home. You would take care of your own end. You would do ritual processes, and you would be involved in it, and that's been taken away in the Western world.