What the caterpillar calls the end of the world the master calls a butterfly.
There is no death, only a change of worlds.
He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man.
For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity.
To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.
It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived.
Death is no more than passing from one room into another. But there's a difference for me, you know. Because in that other room I shall be able to see.
A well-spent day brings happy sleep.
Grief knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can; and common sufferings are far stronger links than common joys.
Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.
Death is only a launching into the region of the strange Untried; it is but the first salutation to the possibilities of the immense Remote, the Wild, the Watery, the Unshored.
We understand death only after it has placed its hands on someone we love.
If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.
Death is no more than passing from one room into another.
Death is the most blessed dream.
Although no words can really help to ease the loss you bear, Just know that you are very close in every thought and prayer. To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.
Tears are God's gift to us. Our holy water. They heal us as they flow.
If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them.
Accordingly, death is a harbor of peace for the just, but is believed a shipwreck for the wicked.
We do not remember days, we remember moments.
Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
As a well spent day brings happy sleep, so life well used brings happy death.
Death is only a larger kind of going abroad.
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.
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