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As warmth makes even glaciers trickle, and opens streams in the ribs of frozen mountains, so the heart knows the full flow and life of its grief only when it begins to melt and pass away.
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Be free from grief not through insensibility like the irrational animals, nor through want of thought like the foolish, but like a man of virtue by having reason as the consolation of grief.
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But I have That honorable grief lodged here which burns Worse than tears drown.
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But there are other things than dissipation that thicken the features. Tears, for example.
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But there is no such man; for, brother, men Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage, Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ache with air and agony with words.
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Cease to lament for that thou canst not help; and study help for that which thou lamentest.
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Dark is the realm of grief: but human things Those may not know of who cannot weep for them.
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Death lies on her like an untimely frost upon the sweetest flower of the field.- William Shakespeare
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Don’t grieve for something bad that happened.At least think of what you have right now
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Dr. Holmes says, both wittily and truly, that crying widows are easiest consoled.
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Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, Which shows like grief itself, but is not so; For sorrow’s eye, glazed with blinding tears, Divides one thing entire to many objects, Like perspectives, which rightly gazed upon, Show nothing but confusion–eyed awry, Distinguish form.
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Even his griefs are a joy, long after, to one that remembers all that he wrought and endured.
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Every one can master a grief but he that has it.
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Excess of grief for the dead is madness; for it is an injury to the living, and the dead know it not.
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FIRE HAS LEFT THE HEARTH Fire has left the hearth Nautilus climbed from shell Perfume flowed from bottle Prisoner gone from cell Butterfly flutterbied cocoon nor hand restrained by glove Jesus away from manger Cage left by Spirit Dove. Sparklings soared away from wand. Chick’s egg become the bird. Omkar sung from out the throat Violin’s notes now heard. Buddhist temple pine cone tabernacle’d godlet seed Shattered that it might manifest thousand forests of fir tree Eternal snow of mountain top now nurses meadow flowers. Shining never held by sun relentless melts ice towers. Love has left its spring the heart Is now a liquid pond Host stolen from the chalice consumed in mouth of God Starlight abandoned star a billion years ago Left that tonight you might have its sight and know Know Love is forever no drop of God ever dies Lover not bound by form of love God’s bodies are not God’s souls (to his wife and children on the death of Robert S) (Baba Hari Das: is the author of love is more powerful than lover for love is not bound by form).
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Funeral Blues Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead. Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods; For nothing now can ever come to any good. -3 of the 4 stanzas of Funeral Blues.
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Give to a wounded heart seclusion; consolation nor reason ever effected anything in such a case.
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Given a choice between grief and nothing, I’d choose grief.
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Good is that darkening of our lives, Which only God can brighten; But better still that hopeless load, Which none but God can lighten.
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Great grief does not of itself put an end itself. [Lat., Magnus sibi ipse non facit finem dolor.]
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