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The purpose of a funeral service is to comfort the living. It is important at a funeral to display excessive read more
The purpose of a funeral service is to comfort the living. It is important at a funeral to display excessive grief. This will show others how kind-hearted and loving you are and their improved opinion of you will be very comforting.
If our inward griefs were seen written on our brow, how many
would be pitied who are now envied!
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If our inward griefs were seen written on our brow, how many
would be pitied who are now envied!
[It., Se a ciascun l'interno affanno
Si leggesse in fronte scritto,
Quanti mai, che invidia fanno,
Ci farebbero pieta!]
Oh, well has it been said, that there is no grief like the grief
which does not speak!
Oh, well has it been said, that there is no grief like the grief
which does not speak!
Thank God, bless God, all ye who suffer not
More grief than ye can weep for. That is well--
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Thank God, bless God, all ye who suffer not
More grief than ye can weep for. That is well--
That is light grieving!
The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone. -Harriet Beecher Stowe.
The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone. -Harriet Beecher Stowe.
She grieves sincerely who grieves unseen.
[Lat., Illa dolet vere qui sine teste dolet.]
She grieves sincerely who grieves unseen.
[Lat., Illa dolet vere qui sine teste dolet.]
Light griefs are communicative, great ones stupefy.
[Lat., Curae leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent.]
Light griefs are communicative, great ones stupefy.
[Lat., Curae leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent.]
O, brothers! let us leave the shame and sin
Of taking vainly in a plaintive mood,
The read more
O, brothers! let us leave the shame and sin
Of taking vainly in a plaintive mood,
The holy name of Grief--holy herein,
That, by the grief of One, came all our good.
Great, good, and just, could I but rate
My grief with thy too rigid fate,
I'd weep read more
Great, good, and just, could I but rate
My grief with thy too rigid fate,
I'd weep the world in such a strain
As it should deluge once again;
But since thy loud-tongued blood demands supplies
More from Briareus' hands than Argus' eyes,
I'll sing thy obsequies with trumpet sounds
And write thy epitaph in blood and wounds.
