Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.

Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.

There is no grief which time does not lessen and soften.
[Lat., Nullus dolor est quem non longinquitas temporis read more

There is no grief which time does not lessen and soften.
[Lat., Nullus dolor est quem non longinquitas temporis minuat ac
molliat.]

The risk of love is loss, and the price of loss is grief -But the pain of griefIs only a read more

The risk of love is loss, and the price of loss is grief -But the pain of griefIs only a shadowWhen compared with the painOf never risking love.

Life is a series of experiences, each one of which makes us bigger, even though it is hard to realize read more

Life is a series of experiences, each one of which makes us bigger, even though it is hard to realize this. For the world was built to develop character, and we must learn that the setbacks and griefs which we endure help us in our marching onward.

What impropriety or limit can there be in our grief for a man so
beloved?
[Lat., Quis desiderio read more

What impropriety or limit can there be in our grief for a man so
beloved?
[Lat., Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus
Tam cari capitis?]

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!

My grief lies all within, And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells read more

My grief lies all within, And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul

This grief is crowned with consolation, you old smock brings
forth a new petticoat, and indeed the tears live read more

This grief is crowned with consolation, you old smock brings
forth a new petticoat, and indeed the tears live in an onion that
should water this sorrow.

O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last,
And careful hours, with Time's deformed hand,
read more

O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last,
And careful hours, with Time's deformed hand,
Have written strange defeatures in my face.