Those things that hurt, instruct.

Those things that hurt, instruct.

Excess of grief for the dead is madness; for it is an injury to the living, and the dead know read more

Excess of grief for the dead is madness; for it is an injury to the living, and the dead know it not.

There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.

There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak

Great grief does not of itself put an end itself.
[Lat., Magnus sibi ipse non facit finem dolor.]

Great grief does not of itself put an end itself.
[Lat., Magnus sibi ipse non facit finem dolor.]

Tears are the silent language of grief

Tears are the silent language of grief

If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine,
Thou robb'st me of a moiety.

If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine,
Thou robb'st me of a moiety.

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 a solemn luxury in grief.

There is a solemn luxury in grief.