13 Total Quotes

Bereavement Quotes

Ralph Waldo Emerson
The death of a dear friend, wife, brother, lover, which seemed nothing but privation, somewhat later assumes the aspect of a guide or genius; for it commonly operates revolutions in our way of life, terminates an epoch of infancy or of youth which was waiting to be closed, breaks up a wonted occupation, or a household, or style of living, and allows the formation of new ones more friendly to the growth of character.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Mark Twain
A man's house burns down. The smoking wreckage represents only a ruined home that was dear through years of use and pleasant associations. By and by, as the days and weeks go on, first he misses this, then that, then the other thing. And when he casts about for it he finds that it was in that house. Always it is an essential -- there was but one of its kind. It cannot be replaced. It was in that house. It is irrevocably lost. It will be years before the tale of lost essentials is complete, and not till then can he truly know the magnitude of his disaster.
Mark Twain
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C.S. Lewis
If, as I can't help suspecting, the dead also feel the pains of separation (and this may be one of their purgatorial sufferings), then for both lovers, and for all pairs of lovers without exception, bereavement is a universal and integral part of our experience of love.
C.S. Lewis
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Grief that is dazed and speechless is out of fashion: the modern woman mourns her husband loudly and tells you the whole story of his death, which distresses her so much that she forgets not the slightest detail about it.
Jean Bruyere
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Bereavement is a darkness impenetrable to the imagination of the unbereaved.
Iris Murdoch
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Coco Chanel
Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death.
Coco Chanel
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Jane Fonda
It is extraordinary how the house and the simplest possessions of someone who has been left become so quickly sordid. Even the stain on the coffee cup seems not coffee but the physical manifestation of one's inner stain, the fatal blot that from the beginning had marked one for ultimate aloneness.
Jane Fonda
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They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, that all of thee we loved and cherished has with thy summer roses perished; and left, as its young beauty fled, an ashen memory in its stead.
John Whittier
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Henry David Thoreau
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.
Henry David Thoreau
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William Shakespeare
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night.
William Shakespeare
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Percy Bysshe Shelley
Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep -- he hath awakened from the dream of life -- 'Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep with phantoms an unprofitable strife.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Henry David Thoreau
We feel at first as if some opportunities of kindness and sympathy were lost, but learn afterward that any pure grief is ample recompense for all. That is, if we are faithful; -- for a spent grief is but sympathy with the soul that disposes events, and is as natural as the resin of Arabian trees. -- Only nature has a right to grieve perpetually, for she only is innocent. Soon the ice will melt, and the blackbirds sing along the river which he frequented, as pleasantly as ever. The same everlasting serenity will appear in this face of God, and we will not be sorrowful, if he is not.
Henry David Thoreau
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How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner As he bends in still grief o'er the hallowed bier, As enanguished he turns from the laugh of the scorner, And drops to perfection's remembrance a tear; When floods of despair down his pale cheeks are streaming, When no blissful hope on his bosom is beaming, Or, if lulled for a while, soon he starts from his dreaming, And finds torn the soft ties to affection so dear. Ah, when shall day dawn on the night of the grave, Or summer succeed to the winter of death? Rest awhle, hapless victim! and Heaven will save The spirit that hath faded away with the breath. Eternity points, in its amaranth bower Where no clouds of fate o'er the sweet prospect lour, Unspeakable pleasure, of goodness the dower, When woe fades away like the mist of the heath.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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