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.
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.
For some moments in life there are no words.
If you're going through hell, keep going.
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.
Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.
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.
Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.
The loss of a friend is like that of a limb; time may heal the anguish of the wound, but the loss cannot be repaired.
He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man.
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 much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand.
We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.
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.
A friend who dies, it's something of you who dies.
Death ends a life, not a relationship.
There's one thing that keeps surprising you about stormy old friends after they die - their silence.
Can miles truly separate you from friends... If you want to be with someone you love, aren't you already there?
We go to the grave of a friend saying,
"A man is dead,"
but angels throng about him saying,
"A man is born."
This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.
And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.
Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.
But fate ordains that dearest friends must part.
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.
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