Quotes About Mourning

We mourn His suffering when, instead, we should mourn the reason He suffered.

In mourning it is the world which has become poor and empty; in melancholia it is the ego itself.

If one of us should die, then I shall move to Paris.

It would undo me, I think, to glimpse some familiar piece of clothing, or a certain book or photograph, or to catch a hint of your smell. And I don't want to be undone like that, oh my God, not with your widow standing by.

Since I first heard about your death, haven't I often felt like someone living with one foot in madness. Early on, there were times when I would find myself somewhere without remembering how I got there, when I'd leave home on some errand only to forget what it was.

Dogs are the best mourners in the world, as everyone knows. Joy Williams.)

The exhaustion of mourning was my thought.

I still think about him all the time. I just sobbed for an age when I found the note I wrote about his death buried in my computer.

When someone you love dies you pay for the sin of outliving her with a thousand piercing regrets.

Women – the Parcae and Moirai – weave human destiny; but they also cut the threads. In most folk representations, Death is woman and women mourn the dead because death is their work.fn6 Thus, Mother Earth has a face of darkness: she is chaos, where everything comes from and must return to one day; she is Nothingness.

Piety in regard to the dead: to do everything for what does not exist.

GUARDIA ...dopo molto tempo, vediamo lei, Antigone, che lancia un grido acuto, come di uccello angosciato alla vista del nido deserto.»

My friend lost his mother when we were at college. I spent a lot of nights talking with him. Lot of nights. He pauses. I know what it's like. You don't just get over it. And it doesn't make any difference if you're supposedly a grown-up. And it never goes away

I live in a place of tears.

Electra, grieving for death, for her father, as a nightingale grieving always.

None but a fool or an infant could forget a father gone so far and cold. No. Lament is a pattern cut and fitted around my mind—like the bird who calls Itys! Itys! endlessly, bird of grief, angel of Zeus. O heartdragging Niobe, I count you a god: buried in rock yet always you weep.

Upon that foreign soil he chose Died he! For ever laid Low, in the kindly shade, He left behind no tearless grief, No measured mourning, dull and brief, These eyes are wet With weeping yet, Nor know I how to find relief. Antigone

Now I weep like a man who wails the dead and the dirge comes pouring forth with all my heart!

But surely they will shroud my corpse with Theban dust?

Life is a farce, and should not end with a mourning scene.

You cannot measure the loss of a human life. It's all the things a person was, all their dreams, all the people who loved them, all they hoped to be and could give back to the world.

Everyone for whom I would have cried has already died.

Go. Go to your beautiful dances, your beautiful ceremonies. And we will bury our dead.

To mourn a lost love: better, longer than love's pretence.