Why wilt thou add to all the griefs I suffer
Imaginary ills, and fancy'd tortures?

Why wilt thou add to all the griefs I suffer
Imaginary ills, and fancy'd tortures?

Grief is the agony of an instant; the indulgence of grief the blunder of a life.

Grief is the agony of an instant; the indulgence of grief the blunder of a life.

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.

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.

Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.

Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.

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.]

Well has it been said that there is no grief like the grief which does not speak.

Well has it been said that there is no grief like the grief which does not speak.

Tears are the silent language of grief

Tears are the silent language of grief

One joy shatters a hundred griefs

One joy shatters a hundred griefs