Quotes About Mourning

My father had been buried for a month when my mother came back to claim me. She returned as somebody even I didn't recognize—a spirit barely alive imprisoned in her body, a husk. When we returned home, I mourned as much for the loss of my mother as I did for my father. Even then her shoulders had started to slump in surrender. Her skin had begun to wrinkle.

In the gutter atop the empty, boarded-up building on my side of the road, Mourning Doves sense my dread and shudder in a cozy nest tucked in the gutter. Their kin have flown to warmer, brighter skies, but they remain my steadfast companions. I'm grateful, though I long to fly, too. But as long as The Bad Man lurks, another girl may need me. As long as The Bad Man lurks, I will stay.

There is nothing triumphant or boastful in the way we mourn the dead and pay our veterans the respect they deserve.

I'm not great at dealing with death, I have to say. I find death very hard: my mum, my dad, Sid Vicious. I'm not a monster; I feel it and it scares me. One death at a time, please, is all my heart will bear.

But sometimes I fear that the people of my country can unite only beside victims' bodies, over coffins and in cemeteries. Like tribesmen who dance around old totems, we ignore the living and can only appreciate the dead.

Putting a man on the moon united our nation in victory and we've collectively mourned through tragedies such as Apollo 1, the Challenger and Columbia.

it is necessary to act within but to think beyond our received humanist tradition and, all the while, to imagine a much more complicated set of stories about the emergence of the now, in which what is foreclosed as unknowable is forever saturating the "what-can-be-known." We are left with the project of visualizing, mourning, and thinking "other humanities" within this received genealogy of "the human.

news guts me out like a fish. I'm empty inside. My mama's gone from this world? She's gone from this world, and I'll never get to see her again?

Every time you mourn for me, I'll be far away. But when you celebrate, I'll be right there with you, dancing.

Today I bring you cold chrysanthemums, white as absence, long-stemmed as my grief. I stand before your grave, a few unfallen leaves overhead, the sucking mud beneath.

I am deeply saddened by the death of my dear friend, Dudley Moore.

Away! we know that tears are vain, That Death nor heeds nor hears distress: Will this unteach us to complain? Or make one mourner weep the less? And thou — who tell'st me to forget, Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.

Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.

Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.

La bambina di due cittadini Canadesi Miriam e Joseph Pallorino è morta Mercoledì in un incidente stradale nella Toscana. La bambina, Angela Pallorino, aveva quattro anni . . .

The grief psychologist William Worden takes into account these questions by replacing stages with tasks of mourning. In his fourth task, the goal is to integrate the loss into your life and create an ongoing connection with the person who died while also finding a way to continue living.

Ellie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand; sometimes she didn't realize she'd been crying until the tears slid off her chin and dripped down her neck.

The dead don't need justice. That's for those of us who are left looking down at the remains.

People still mourn when people die. That's self-sympathy. All human beings are selfish to a certain extent, and that's why people get so sad when someone dies. They haven't finished using him. The person who is dead ain't crying. Sadness is for when a baby is born into this heavy world, and joy should be exhibited at someone's death because they are going on to something more permanent and infinitely better.

The death of a parent, he wrote, "despite our preparation, indeed, despite our age, dislodges things deep in us, sets off reactions that surprise us and that may cut free memories and feelings that we had thought gone to ground long ago. We might, in that indeterminate period they call mourning, be in a submarine, silent on the ocean's bed, aware of the depth charges, now near and now far, buffeting us with recollections.

I know why we try to keep the dead alive: we try to keep them alive in order to keep them with us.

Until now I had been able only to grieve, not mourn. Grief was passive. Grief happened. Mourning, the act of dealing with grief, required attention.

Visible mourning reminds us of death, which is construed as unnatural, a failure to manage the situation. "A single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty," Philippe Ariès wrote to the point of this aversion in Western Attitudes toward Death. "But one no longer has the right to say so aloud.

These people who have lost someone look naked because they think themselves invisible.