Quotes About Mourning

In the seventeenth year of my age my mother died.

Unbelievable, George Michael has died at the age of 53. RIP.This dreadful year goes on and on.So sad, a real talent.

the inlet our friend looks as he did when we first knew him, and until I wake I believe I will die of grief, for I know that this boy grew into a man who was a faithful friend who died.

For what seemed a long time Mat knelt there with his father's dead wrist in his hand, while his mind arrived and arrived and yet arrived at that place and time and that body lying still on the soiled and bloodied stones.

Let us say your wife dies——

a bonnet full of black feathers, as if a raven had wandered onto her hat and died of pure wretchedness.

It was her wedding dress and it had a flare-out bottom, and they had laid her head to foot in it so the dress could spread out, and they had made her a veil out of a mosquito bar so the auger holes in her face wouldn't show.

The orchestra had ceased and were now climbing onto their chairs, with their instruments. The floral offerings flew; the coffin teetered. Catch it! a voice shouted. They sprang forward, but the coffin crashed heavily to the floor, coming open. The corpse tumbled slowly and sedately out and came to rest with its face in the center of a wreath. Play something! the proprietor bawled, waving his arms; play! Play!

the face which had long since forgotten how to be young and yet absolutely impenetrable, absolutely serene: no mourning, not even grief

They seem to have accepted that she's gone." "I don't see how they could be sure she is. But I wish we'd known. Could've brought some flowers." "Daedra never suggested this. It seems to be a surprise." "A surprise funeral? You do that, here?" "A first, for me.

I've come to understand that there's a good deal of value in the ritual accompanying death. It's hard to say good- bye and almost impossible to accomplish this alone and ritual is the railing we hold to, all of us together, that keeps us upright and connected until the worst is past.

Le lapidi erano banali, parevano chiedere scusa ai defunti.

You know that grief cannot be avoided. And that when it finds a person, they might look the same but they're changed: their missing person has altered the atmosphere in the house, the classroom, the playground; on birthdays and holidays; amongst friends and with the parent who survives.

I have a box at school, Storm, filled with photos of friends and famiy. They have one thing in common. They're all dead. How long 'til add your name to the list, huh? What am I suppposed to do, keep on going 'til there's no one left I love?

Still shaking, in the pew, I understood that it isn't the dead we cry for. We cry for ourselves, and I didn't deserve my own pity.

The church was stuffed with mourners, of course. No one from work - I tried to keep my life and my magazine separate - but otherwise everybody Andrew and I knew was there. It was disorientating, like having the entire contents of one's address book dressed in black and exported into pews in non alphabetical order.

The mourners clustered around the edge of the grave, paralyzed by the horror of this thing, this first discovery of death that was worse than the death itself.

Everyone in this house has been shocked by Henry's death,

The outlandish 2000 election and Bush's victory had come along at the perfect time, helping Stewart, the correspondents, and the writers sharpen The Daily Show's tone of bemused mockery. The next world-changing events would have just as big an effect—and a late-night, basic cable comedy show would become an unlikely outlet for mourning, an antidote to anxiety, and gradually a center of principled, patriotic dissent.

When I am dead, my dearest,Sing no sad songs for me;Plant thou no roses at my head,Nor shady cypress tree.Be the green grass above meWith showers and dewdrops wet;And if thou wilt, rememberAnd if thou wilt, forget.

Who shall tell the lady's grief When her Cat was past relief? Who shall number the hot tears Shed o'er her, beloved for years? Who shall say the dark dismay Which her dying caused that day?

At least once a year there is a predawn rehearsal of the Queen Mother's funeral procession through the streets of London.

when they travel, all royals bring along mourning clothes, in case a family member dies and they must rush home for the funeral.

Jarrod frowned like he felt bad for me, and I thought I saw maybe even a hint of tears in his eyes, like he was attending the funeral of a good friend who had died in an accident, and was looking down at his dead body, thinking, That's not him, the way I'd thought when I saw my grandmother in her casket, all made up with colors she'd have never chosen for herself had she been alive.