Quotes About Mourning

Er verließ seinen Vater, Witwer seit wenigen Stunden, um, wie er sagte, "Statuen kaufen" zu gehen, und dabei schien er zu scherzen. Er war den figürlichen Nachbildungen des Schmerzes und der Ruhe schon seit früher Kindheit geneigt gewesen, seit seiner Kindheit war er ein Sammler, die Museen waren in ihm; seine Statuen waren seine Spielzeuge, ein Vorrecht derjenigen, die von Geburt an verloren sind und an ihrem Ende debütieren.

Song after Battle: As the young men went by I was looking for him. It surprises me anew That he has gone. It is something To which I cannot be reconciled. Owls hoot at me. Owls hoot at me. That is what I hear In my life. Wolves howl at me. Wolves howl at me. That is what I hear In my life. -American Indian Songs

Ye who have laid your love to rest, And wept above their lifeless clay, Know not the anguish of that breast, Whose lov'd are rudely torn away. Ye may not know how desolate, Are bosoms rudely forced to part, And how a dull and heavy weight, Will press the life-drops from the heart.

I did not see your mother at the funeral,' she said, following the thought. 'She stopped coming to them after her own,' Paul answered simply.

But then again, the dead are often easier to praise than the living.

Sleep no more, Cypris, beneath thy purple coverlet, but awake to thy misery; put on the sable robe and fall to beating thy breast, and tell it to the world: The beauteous Adonis is dead.

My silks and fine array, My smiles and languished air, By love are driv'n away; And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave: Such end true lovers have.

And when I gave him the urn, he weighed it in his hand and declared she wasn't quite all there—she'd weighed a full one hundred and sixty-five pounds when she was alive—so he weighed her on a scale and then sat down and worked out that there ought to be another one and three-quarter ounces of her

I read in a magazine the other day that Hindu Indians do not mourn their dead; instead they rejoice, believing that the loved one has gone to a better place. I cannot imagine that, myself, for how can the heart not ache with the sorrow of that terrible finality? Do these people have no feelings?

Loneliness was also the young woman in black who came almost every day to the Polytechnic. She knew exactly which of all the tangled skeletons lying on the cold concrete were those of her little girl and her husband. She would go straight to one of the sixty-four doors of Murambi and stand in the middle of the room before two intertwined corpses: a man clutching a decapitated child against him. The young woman in black prayed in silence, and then left.

The son—deceased's under that tree, doctor, just inside the schoolyard.

It's a terrible thing when a person dies, whatever the circumstances. A hole opens up in the world, and we need to pay the proper respects. If we don't, the hole will never be filled in again.

People naturally pay their respects to the dead. The person had, after all, just accomplished the personal, profound feat of dying.

Crying for someone else is nothing to apologize about," I told him. "Especially someone you care for, someone who's passed away

People don't gather after a death to mourn, but rather to reaffirm why life matters and to remember to exult in the only one we'll ever have. We hold funerals, memorials, celebrations—whatever you want to call them—to seek and to find the heart of the matter of this trip we call Life.

As soon as I looked at Alphonse's face, I knew that he was dead. I had the strange feeling that I was dead myself. It felt as if I were lying at the bottom of a grave and earth was being thrown on me. When death takes someone you know, he holds you and whispers all his secrets in your ear.

Marie felt an incredible coldness. She had stopped pursuing, even on an imaginary level, the one person she loved in the world. Sadie was no more. Sadie was dead to her. But she was not mourning Sadie, she was mourning the part of her that had ever loved Sadie. She had put aside a love for a father and now she was setting aside the love of her youth. In the coming days she knew she would become a monster. She stood on the balcony letting the metamorphosis happen.

You can't be ironic about dead people.

It's wrong for parents to bury their children. It should be the other way around.

I wrote the song For A Dancer for a friend of mine who died in a fire. He was in the sauna in a house that burned down, so he had no idea anything was going on. It was very sad.

When I had to bury my child, I probably didn't start grieving until a year and a half later.

Michael died five years ago this January, and the first thing that really struck me about the script was the part about her peeling off from the funeral and just getting into a rowboat and having a real kind of cry where nobody was.

The most important part of the process of mourning is regularly reciting kaddish in a synagogue. Kaddish is a doxology, which Jewish tradition has mandated children to recite daily in a synagogue during the year of mourning for a deceased parent and then on the anniversary of his or her death thereafter.

I am not going to be licked by tragedy, as life is a challenge, and we must carry on and work for the living as well as mourn for the dead.