Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o’er-wrought heart and bids it break.
We came into the world like brother and brother; and now let’s go hand in hand, not one before another.
When brothers agree, no fortress is so strong as their common life.
His life was gentle; and the elements so mix’d in him that Nature might stand up and say to all the world, ‘This was a man.’
The righteous man walks in his integrity; his children are blessed after him.
The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness.
The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.
Absence diminishes little passions and increases great ones.
Life is eternal and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon, and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.
They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it. Death cannot kill what never dies.
Mors certa, hora incerta. (Death is certain, the hour is uncertain.)
Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.
When I play with my cat, who knows if I am not a pastime to her more than she is to me?
You have not lived today until you have done something for someone who can never repay you.
Histories are more full of examples of the fidelity of dogs than of friends.
There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.
What is lovely never dies, but passes into another loveliness.
Say not in grief ‘he is no more’ but live in thankfulness that he was.
Sorrow makes us all children again – destroys all differences of intellect. The wisest know nothing.
He spoke well who said that graves are the footprints of angels.
The grave itself is but a covered bridge, leading from light to light, through a brief darkness.
While we are mourning the loss of our friend, others are rejoicing to meet him behind the veil.
And how can man die better than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his Gods?
The day which we fear as our last is but the birthday of eternity.
For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity.
Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying.