On the death of a friend, we should consider that the fates through confidence have devolved on us the task of a double living, that we have henceforth to fulfill the promise of our friend's life also, in our own, to the world.
If you're going through hell, keep going.
Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.
Can miles truly separate you from friends... If you want to be with someone you love, aren't you already there?
Death ends a life, not a relationship.
This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.
When our friends are alive, we see the good qualities they lack; dead, we remember only those they possessed.
Friends share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand.
There's one thing that keeps surprising you about stormy old friends after they die - their silence.
It hath been often said, that it is not death, but dying, which is terrible.
Say not 'Good-night' but in some brighter clime, bid me 'Good-morning.'
When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.
But fate ordains that dearest friends must part.
We go to the grave of a friend saying,
"A man is dead,"
but angels throng about him saying,
"A man is born."
The song is ended, but the melody lingers on.
The comfort of having a friend may be taken away, but not that of having had one.
We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.
If I have any beliefs about immortality, it is that certain dogs I have known will go to heaven, and very, very few persons.
The deep pain that is felt
at the death of every friendly soul
arises from the feeling that there is
in every individual something
which is inexpressible,
peculiar to him alone,
and is, therefore,
absolutely and irretrievably lost.
And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.
Is death the last sleep? No, it is the last and final awakening.
When you are sorrowful, look again.
He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man.
Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die.
Your lost friends are not dead, but gone before, advanced a stage or two upon that road which you must travel in the steps they trod.
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