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Mourning Quotes

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Mourning Quotes

“She went to the church to sit in the cave of stone, filled with the voices of strangers. Murmurs coming through the air, bowling in the ceiling and sifting down with the speckled greens and blues, the deep dark red of the stained glass at the end of the nave. She sat in the hard wooden pew and waited for the hymns. And when the singing started, she could weep. She went to the church to open her mouth and feel her heart again, constricted, struggling, banging against her throat, the tears there in the place of words, her voice struggling out in the vast air, stopped by grief.”

GriefMourningLoss Of A ChildRestricted Expression
Book:The Guest Book
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“Meanwhile there was work to do: raising our children, wading through a mass of legal papers, finances, and taxes, and recovering the professional life that was now our sole support, while, at a subterranean level, feeling adrift in dark, unknown waters. And though I'd flared with anger when the priest at Heinz's funeral had warned not to be "angry at God" because of his sudden and violent death, I struggled not to sink under currents of fear, anger, and confusion that roiled an ocean of grief.”

LifeDeathFearLossGriefAngerConfusionMourning
Book:Why Religion? A Personal Story
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“Now while I sat in the day and look'd forth, In the close of the day with its light and the fields of spring, and the farmers preparing their crops, In the large unconscious scenery of my land with its lakes and forests, In the heavenly aerial beauty, (after the perturb'd winds and the storms,) Under the arching heavens of the afternoon swift passing, and the voices of children and women, The many-moving sea-tides, and I saw the ships how they sail'd, And the summer approaching with richness, and the fields all busy with labor, And the infinite separate houses, how they all went on, each with its meals and minutia of daily usages, And the streets how their throbbings throbb'd, and the cities pent—lo, then and there, Falling upon them all and among them all, enveloping me with the rest, Appear'd the cloud, appear'd the long black trail, And I knew death, its thought, and the sacred knowledge of death.”

LifeDeathPoetryLossGriefPoemMourningEveryday Life
Author:Walt Whitman
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“Often beneath the wave, wide from this ledge The dice of drowned men’s bones he saw bequeath An embassy. Their numbers as he watched, Beat on the dusty shore and were obscured. And wrecks passed without sound of bells, The calyx of death’s bounty giving back A scattered chapter, livid hieroglyph, The portent wound in corridors of shells. Then in the circuit calm of one vast coil, Its lashings charmed and malice reconciled, Frosted eyes there were that lifted altars; And silent answers crept across the stars. Compass, quadrant and sextant contrive No farther tides ... High in the azure steeps Monody shall not wake the mariner. This fabulous shadow only the sea keeps.”

DeathPoetryLossGriefSeaPoemMourningHerman Melville
Author:Hart Crane
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“Lorsque votre travail de deuil progresse, une énergie intérieure, souvent à peine perceptible, s'active pour réparer tout votre être. Ce travail obscur s'effectue même durant les périodes où vous avez l'impression que rien ne bouge. Cependant, on peut dire que vous êtes sur la bonne voie lorsque vous prenez conscience que vous pleurez sur « vous » et non sur la personne qui n'est plus.”

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Book:De l'autre côté des larmes : Guide pour une traversée consciente du deuil
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“শোকের সঙ্গে সময়ের এক সূক্ষ্ম রেষারেষি আছে। তাদের মধ্যে এক চাপা লড়াই চলছে অবিরাম। এই দ্বৈরথের প্রথম দফায় শোকই জেতে, চকিত আঘাত হেনে সময়কে সে নিশ্চল করে দেয়। তারপর ধীরে ধীরে সময় বলবান হয়ে ওঠে, তার অদৃশ্য শরজালে হঠে যেতে থাকে শোক। ক্রমশ নির্জীব হয়ে পড়ে সে। তবে তাকে পুরোপুরি নিশ্চিহ্ন করার শক্তি বুঝি সময়েরও নেই। এক শীতল বিষন্নতা হয়ে সে টিকে থাকে বহুকাল। অনেকটা যেন মেরুপ্রভার মতো। ক্ষীণ দীপ্তি, অথচ কী তার অপার বিস্তার।”

TimeMourning
Book:কাছের মানুষ
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“For weeks, really, I could conjure him into being. I'd imagine him walking in, soaked in sweat, having finished mowing the lawn, and he'd try to hug me but i'd squirm out from his arms because even then sweat freaked me out. Or I'd be in my room, lying on my stomach, reading a book, and I'd look over at the closed door and imagine him opening it, and then he would be in the room with me, and I'd be looking up at him as he knelt down to kiss the top of my head. And then it became harder to summon him, to smell his smell, to feel him lifting me up. My father died suddenly, but also across the years. He was still dying, really—which meant I guess that he was still living, too.”

LossGriefMourning
Book:Turtles All the Way Down
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“Saeed prayed a great deal, and so did his father, and so did their guests, and some of them wept, but Saeed had wept only once, when he first saw his mother's corpse and screamed, and Saeed's father wept only when he was alone in his room, silently, without tears, his body seized as though by a stutter, or a shiver, that would not let go, for his sense of loss was boundless, and his sense of the benevolence of the universe was shaken, and his wife had been his best friend.”

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Book:Exit West
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“The world is full of widows--several among my closer friends. We have each known that grim rite of passage, have engaged with grief and loss, and have not exactly emerged but found a way of living after and beyond. It is an entirely changed life, for anyone who has been in a long marriage--forty-one years, for me: alone in bed, alone most of the time, without that presence towards which you turned for advice, reassurance, with whom you shared the good news and the bad. Every decision now taken alone; no one to defuse anxieties. And a thoroughly commonplace experience--everywhere, always--so get on with it and don't behave as though you are uniquely afflicted. I didn't tell myself that at the time, and I doubt if it would have helped if I had, but it is what I have come--not so much to feel as to understand.”

LifeLossGriefMarriageMourningWidowsSelf PitySpousesLoss Of A Spouse
Book:Ammonites And Leaping Fish: A Life In Time
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“Walking alone in the dark early the next morning, New Year's Day, the coming year stretched out like a bleak and endless highway, leading nowhere.... Having held on for months, thinking that that if only we can get through to the new year, now I felt plunged into black ice, in danger of drowning.... Suddenly I understood our friends' concern. Could this be what precedes some kind of breakdown--a sudden shift to feel oblivion as temptation, even as seduction?”

DeathLossGriefDepressionMental IllnessMourningBreakdowns
Book:Why Religion? A Personal Story
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