We do not remember days, we remember moments.
Death is only a larger kind of going abroad.
No matter how prepared you think you are for the death of a loved one, it still comes as a shock, and it still hurts very deeply.
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.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.
A well-spent day brings happy sleep.
To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.
Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.
For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity.
There is no death, only a change of worlds.
Wherever you are you will always be in my heart.
He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man.
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.
It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived.
Grief knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can; and common sufferings are far stronger links than common joys.
In the night of death, hope sees a star, and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing.
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.
I know for certain that we never lose the people we love, even to death. They continue to participate in every act, thought and decision we make. Their love leaves an indelible imprint in our memories. We find comfort in knowing that our lives have been enriched by having shared their love.
We understand death only after it has placed its hands on someone we love.
Tears are God's gift to us. Our holy water. They heal us as they flow.
Death is no more than passing from one room into another.
Death is the most blessed dream.
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.
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