Man, when he does not grieve, hardly exists.
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.
There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.
Loss is nothing else but change, and change is Nature's delight.
Grief at the absence of a loved one is happiness compared to life with a person one hates.
Tears are sometimes an inappropriate response to death. When a life has been lived completely honestly, completely successfully, or just completely, the correct response to death's perfect punctuation mark is a smile.
Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death.
One often calms one's grief by recounting it.
Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.
Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms - to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.
In the night of death, hope sees a star, and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing.
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
We are healed of a suffering only by experiencing it to the full.
Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
I am not afraid of death. I just don't want to be there when it happens.
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.
He spoke well who said that graves are the footprints of angels.
The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing...that is a friend who cares.
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.
No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.
What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.
What the caterpillar calls the end of the world the master calls a butterfly.
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.
I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil.
We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.
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