Life is eternal; and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.
Those we love don't go away, they sit beside us every day.
What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.
With what a deep devotedness of woe I wept thy absence - o'er and o'er again Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, And memory, like a drop that, night and day, Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away!
He kept at true good humor's mark The social flow of pleasure's tide: He never made a brow look dark, Nor caused a tear, but when he died.
For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity.
Courage is being afraid but going on anyhow.
Oh heart, if one should say to you that the soul perishes like the body, answer that the flower withers, but the seed remains.
The purpose of human life is to serve, and to show compassion and the will to help others.
There is no death, only a change of worlds.
A human life is a story told by God.
He spoke well who said that graves are the footprints of angels.
We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.
Grief knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can; and common sufferings are far stronger links than common joys.
Like a bird singing in the rain, let grateful memories survive in time of sorrow.
Until one has loved an animal a part of one's soul remains unawakened.
What the caterpillar calls the end of the world the master calls a butterfly.
A horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.
Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.
Grief is the price we pay for love.
And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since and lost awhile.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
In the night of death, hope sees a star, and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing.
When you are sorrowful, look again.
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