612 Quotes About Mourning

Time they say is a great healer, but in this case, I am not sure that is true.

At funerals, people say things about a dead person that they should have told them while they were still alive.

She wished for a moment that they were all children again. It still seemed extraordinary to her, that everything had turned out the way it had.

Instead of hating, my heart cries mercy! Mercy on me! Mercy on me! Mercy on me!

The president is not at all like the powerful icon I imagined her to be. She’s more like I remember Amma: small and delicate with a sari that dances behind her as she walks. Of course, the president is clad in white, the color that shows eternal mourning of a lost child, while Amma never wore white. She wore reds and oranges and deep greens. Colors of celebration, of happiness. Perhaps she wears white now. Now that I am dead to her.

I miss you so much in these wee morning hours,when the depth of the night sets my spirit free.When the forest is dark, and there doesn’t have to be anything in the worldbut the beauty I pull out of it.I miss you throughout the day,as I come across glories and wonders that could easily overwhelm me,but just dull because you’re not here to enjoy them.

I think the purest of souls, those with the most fragile of hearts, must be meant for a short life. They can't be tethered or held in your palm.Just like a sparrow, they light on your porch. Their song might be brief, but how greedy would we be to ask for more? No, you cannot keep a sparrow. You can only hope that as they fly away, they take a little bit of you with them.

Way Down South in Dixie (Break the heart of me)They hung my black young lover To a cross roads tree.Way Down South in Dixie (Bruised body high in air)I asked the white Lord Jesus What was the use of prayer.Way Down South in Dixie (Break the heart of me)Love is a naked shadow On a gnarled and naked tree.

For all her culture's attention to the physical, it seemingly has little to salve the creatural anguish of losing someone else's body, their touch, their heat, their oceanic heart...she doesn't want another body, she wants the body she loved, the forceps scar across his cheek that she traced with her hand, his penis, its elegant sweep to the side, the preternaturally soft skin. One wants what one has loved, not the idea of love.