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  18  /  22  

On me, on me
Time and change can heap no more!
The painful past with blighting grief
read more

On me, on me
Time and change can heap no more!
The painful past with blighting grief
Hath left my heart a withered leaf.
Time and change can do no more.

by Richard Hengist Horne Found in: Grief Quotes,
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  30  /  17  

While grief is fresh, every attempt to divert only irritates. You must wait till it be digested, and then amusement read more

While grief is fresh, every attempt to divert only irritates. You must wait till it be digested, and then amusement will dissipate the remains of it.

by Samuel Johnson Found in: Grief Quotes,
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What need a man forestall his date of grief,
And run to meet what he would most avoid?

What need a man forestall his date of grief,
And run to meet what he would most avoid?

by John Milton Found in: Grief Quotes,
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  32  /  31  

Tears are the silent language of grief

Tears are the silent language of grief

by Voltaire Found in: Grief Quotes, Tears Quotes,
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  43  /  51  

It is foolish to tear one's hair in grief, as though sorrow would be made less by baldness.

It is foolish to tear one's hair in grief, as though sorrow would be made less by baldness.

by Cicero Found in: Grief Quotes,
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  13  /  25  

He that conceals his grief finds no remedy for it

He that conceals his grief finds no remedy for it

by Turkish Proverb Found in: Grief Quotes,
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  14  /  30  

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?]

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  32  /  28  

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.]

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  16  /  18  

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.

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