Quotes About Mourning

It was a circumambulation of such precise, ritualistic grief no one interfered.

I slept with grief and woke to it. It was always there, a black strap around my heart.

Numerous books have confirmed Ariès's and Gawande's point that we are death-deprived not only by medical and mortuary businesses but also by much more generalized social prohibitions against acknowledging dying or mourning.

It is these black clothes, said Strange. I am like a leftover piece of funeral, condemned to walk about the Town, frightening people into thinking of their own mortality.

Arm in arm, Birchie and Wattie were a living hinge. They were the place where the South met itself, and I thought that it was good, even though their very sisterhood had called forth a mourning party. It was ugly, but it was where we were. This was where history had brought us, and inside me the baby I would

Arm in arm, Birchie and Wattie were a living hinge. They were the place where the South met itself, and I thought that it was good, even though their very sisterhood had called forth a mourning party. It was ugly, but it was where we were. This was where history had brought us, and inside me the baby I would not name Digby spun like a small promise of better things. He belonged to me and to both of them. He was the future that Birchie and Wattie had risked everything to preserve.

They say you have to watch out for a woman scorned . Let me tell you, a woman in mourning can be just as deadly.

I didn't want to go inside, to nod at condolences, to taste that mixture of casseroles and grief.

Some family's boad capsized at Lake Winnipesaukee the day before and now they were looking for the father's body.

The Ache of Autumn in Us There is a season for everything, a time for giving birth, a time for dying; a time for tears, a time for laughter; a time for mourning, a time for dancing. . . . —Ecclesiastes 3:1,2,4 The trees grow more restless; October wind weaves through them; they shake their arms in dismay as if to fight the coming cold and the grief of leaves going. Autumn air does a heart-dance on branches already gone barren; the misty air clings to golden leaves

Night goes away, a black bull-- body heavy with mourning and fear and mystery-- it has been bellowing horribly, monstrously, in genuine fear of all the dead; and day arrives, a young child who wants trust, and love, and jokes, --a child who somewhere far away, in secret places where what ends meets what is starting, has been playing a moment on some meadow or other of light and darkness with the bull who is running away...

Recovery unfolds in three stages. The central task of the first stage is the establishment of safety. The central task of the second stage is remembrance and mourning. The central focus of the third stage is reconnection with ordinary life.

What surprised her the most about her quiet winter and spring was how often she thought of her mother. It was like discovering a new vein of grief. Maybe it was because mourning a marriage was like mourning a parent—you miss the person you wished you had, as well as the one you did.

Smutek saß einfach da, betäubt vom Lärm in seinem Inneren.

Naming suffering, exalting it, dissecting it into its smallest components – that is doubtless a way to curb mourning.

Can the beautiful be sad? Is beauty inseparable from the ephemeral and hence from mourning? Or else is the beautiful object the one that tirelessly returns following destructions and wars in order to bear witness that there is survival after death, that immortality is possible?

The depressed narcissist mourns not an Object but the Thing. Let me posit the "Thing" as the real that does not lend itself to signification, the center of attraction and repulsion, seat of the sexuality from which the object of desire will become separated... the Thing is an imagined sun, bright and black at the same time.

He halted his words, sinking into a chair, trying very hard to get past the fact that he was perilously close to tears. Right here, in John's study, with this damnable little man who didn't seem to understand that a man had died, not just an earl, but a man, Michael wanted to cry. And he would, he suspected. As soon as Lord Winston left, and Michael could lock the door and make sure that no one could see him, he would probably bury his face in his hands and cry.

It's . . . very difficult . . . when someone dies, and you can only watch, and you can't do anything to stop

It was very hard for all of us. It's still very hard. The anniversary of his death just passed, and every single one of his friends, still, after all these years... it's unbelievable.

By the way, is there anything sadder than toys on a grave?

At five in the afternoon.Ah, that fatal five in the afternoon!It was five by all the clocks!It was five in the shade of the afternoon!

Años hace que no venía a esta catedral al Oficio de Difuntos, a rezar por Medellín y su muerte.

She'll be buried