Quotes About Mourning

The executed men were cursed, and praised, and doubted, and despised, and held to account, and blackened, and wondered at, and mourned, all in a confusion complicated infinitely by the site of war.

Francis stared down at the Duchess of York's letter. He swallowed, then read aloud in a husky voice, "It was showed by John Sponer that King Richard, late mercifully reigning upon us, was through great treason piteously slain and murdered, to the great heaviness of this City." As Margaret listened, the embittered grey eyes had softened, misted with sudden tears. "My brother may lie in an untended grave," she said, "but he does not lack for an epitaph.

And to live in those rooms, where one of his smiles might emerge, like something almost from another place, another time, another set of creatures, was to feel blessed, and to be held in mysteriousness, and a little in mourning.

I needed to grieve alone, not as a group and not as a spectacle.

Nowadays most people wear black most of the time anyway: go to a literary party and one would imagine everyone there was in perpetual mourning for their lives.

The truth is that there comes a time When we can mourn no more over music That is so much motionless sound

A black pendant in the shape of a heart lay in her hand. It was carved with roses and strung onto a velvet cord.

You are never truly together with one you love until the person in question is dead and actually inside you.

But she felt an unexpected stab of loneliness. Teddy was not there. If she were to reach out to where he had always lain beside her, he would not be there. He would never be there again. Not ever or ever or ever.

Teddy. Diana floated on a cushion of fuzziness and wanted him. She wanted the terrible loneliness to go away. But Teddy was dead. He would never be there again.

Then I thought that once my year of mourning was over and I put off my blacks, I would also put off the worst of my grief. And perhaps that has happened. But sometimes I think that grief is preferable to emptiness. At least grief is something. I have come to realize, I suppose, that they are not just dead. They are gone. There is nothing there where they were.

This is why you don't just stick bodies in the refrigerator before an open-casket funeral. Mack is telling me about a ninety-seven-year-old woman who looked sixty after her embalming. "We had to paint in wrinkles, or the family wouldn't recognize her.

As a feature of the common man's funeral, the open casket is a relatively recent development: around 150 years. According to Mack, it serves several purposes, aside from providing what undertakers call "the memory picture." It reassures the family that, one, their loved one is unequivocally dead and not about to be buried alive, and, two, that the body in the casket is indeed their loved one, and not the stiff from the container beside his.

This is why you don't just stick bodies in the refrigerator before an open-casket funeral.

An hour? What do you do with a dead person for an hour? Mom had been sick for a long time; we'd done our grieving and crying and saying goodbye. It was like being served a slice of pie you didn't want to eat. We felt it would be rude to leave, after all the trouble they'd gone to.

There is a sort of melancholy pleasure to be had out of a funeral, with its pomp and ceremony, but I shrank from a death-bed.

Enter the house of mourning, my friend, but with kindness and affection for those who love you, and not with hatred for your enemies.

It is so long before the mind can persuade itself that she, whom we say every day, and whose very existence appeared a part of our own, can have departed for ever—that the brightness of a beloved eye can be extinguished, and the sound of a voice heard.

It is so long before the mind can persuade itself that she, whom we saw every day, and whose very existence appeared a part of our own, can have departed for ever.

It is so long before the mind can persuade itself that she, whom we saw every day, and whose very existence appeared a part of our own, can have been extinguished, and the sound of a voice so familiar and dear to the ear can be hushed, never more to be heard.

Our house was the house of mourning.

It is so long before the mind can persuade itself that she, whom we saw every day, and whose existence appeared a part of our own, can have departed for ever - that the brightness of a beloved eye can be extinguished, and the sound of a voice so familiar, and dear to the ear, can be hushed, never more to be heard.

This is thy funeral, this thy dirge!

Cuando alguien a quien amamos muere, deseamos volver a encontrarlo en otro estado y albergamos a medias la esperanza de que la imaginación consiga recrearlo con el mismo aspecto de su vestimenta mortal.