The Quote Garden

 I dig old books.

 Est. 1998

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Quotations:  In Sympathy

If I should ever leave you whom I love
To go along the Silent Way, grieve not,
Nor speak of me with tears, but laugh and talk
Of me as if I were beside you, for
Who knows but that I shall be oftentimes?...
~Isla Paschal Richardson (1886–1971), "To Those I Love," in The Rotarian, 1943

Unable are the Loved to die
For Love is Immortality...
~Emily Dickinson

[W]hile we are mourning the loss of our friend, others are rejoicing to meet him behind the veil... ~John Taylor, 1882

He spake well who said that graves are the footprints of angels! ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "Saint Gilgen," Hyperion, 1839

Death is the heartache no one can heal,
Memories are keepsakes no one can steal.
Beautiful memories are all we have left,
Of the ones we loved and will never forget.
Softly the leaves of memory fall,
Gently we gather and cherish them all.
Planted deep in memory's garden
And watered daily with tears,
Memory has a magical way
Of keeping loved ones near.
~Author unknown, grieving poem from the 1950s

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. ~Khalil Gibran (1883–1931), The Prophet

Every breath of the wind that blows,
Every flake of the winter snows,
Every twig of the pine that grows,
      Speaks to me of thee;
In my heart, when the Day is gone,
Through the years, be they drear or long,
You will live, as the lilt of song,
      In my memory.
~W. Dayton Wegefarth (1885–1973), "In Memory," Rainbow Verse: A Book of Helpful Sunny Philosophy, 1919

I think when loved ones die, we absorb something from them that makes us who we are so we can continue on. ~Reginald VelJohnson

To live in hearts we leave behind,
      Is not to die.
~Thomas Campbell (1777–1844), "Hallowed Ground"

Those we love and lose are always connected by heartstrings into infinity. ~Terri Guillemets

For what is thine is ours always, if we are Thine and life is eternal; and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight. ~Rossiter Worthington Raymond, prayer, in memorandum, Ida Elizabeth Smith Noyes, 1912

[M]emory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you wish to never lose. ~Bob Brush

The vanished, vanished faces
      Press on our inner sight;
We see them in the morning,
      We see them in the night.
Belovèd are the living,
      Who have not taken flight,
But the vanished, vanished faces
      Make the lonely heart's delight.
~Mary Clemmer (1831–1884), "Vanished Faces"

Perhaps they are not stars but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy. ~Author unknown

The Day that died in the golden west
      Still flings its marvelous glory;
The eagle that swung from the mountain crest
      Has tinted a poet's story...
The friend that vanished through mist and tears,
      With a love that faltered never,
Will crown the life of the weary years,
      The beautiful, vast forever.
~Josephine Butterfield Walcott (1840–1906), "Beautiful Links," World of Song, 1878

We talk about heaven being so far away. It is within speaking distance to those who belong there. ~D. L. Moody (1837–1899)

I leave you love... I leave you hope... I leave you faith. ~Mary McLeod Bethune (1875–1955), last will and testament, written 1953

There are some griefs so loud
They could bring down the sky,
And there are griefs so still
None knows how deep they lie,
Endured, never expended.
~May Sarton, "Of Grief," A Durable Fire, 1972

Oh heart, if some fool tells you that the soul perishes like the body and that which dies never returns, tell him the flower withers but the seed remains and lies before us as the secret of life everlasting. ~Khalil Gibran (1883–1931)

May soothing words of sympathy, sweet and precious consolations, and wise and gentle counsels distil like heavenly dew upon thy bleeding heart. ~William Simonds, Our Little Ones in Heaven, 1858  [a little altered —tg]

Tenderly, silver moon, look down
      On the new grave to-night!
      Stars that symbol our home above,
      Oh, shine with softest light!
Angels, stoop to the friends bereft
      And kiss all tears away!
      An earthly veil has covered lips
      Of sweetest smile to-day.
Come closer, Lord, to mourning hearts
      Than Thou hast been before!
      The Life was Thine. The memory we
      Will treasure evermore.
~Sara L. Vickers Oberholtzer, "Laid to Rest," 1889

Overheard at a gravesite: "And they all said 'I'm sorry for your loss,' as if you were someone who could ever be taken from me." ~Robert Brault,

There's one gift, dear Father, which I have received
That has kept black despair from my heart when I've grieved,
'Tis knowledge that loved ones, when they've been called home,
Do not go far away, I'm never alone.
~Gertrude Tooley Buckingham (1880–1971), "My Song of Thanksgiving"

Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince,
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!
~William Shakespeare, Hamlet, c.1600  [V, 2, Horatio]

With what a deep devotedness of woe
I wept thy absence — o'er and o'er again
Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain,
And memory, like a drop that, night and day,
Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away!
~Thomas Moore, Lalla Rookh, 1817

The voice I used to love so well
      Is silent, still, for aye;
No more my woes it will dispel,
Nor all my boyish angers quell—
      My strength of yesterday.
Ah, daddy mine—a lad's best friend—
      E'en though you've gone from me,
I'll hear your voice at every bend
Of Life's long road, until the end
      Of God's Eternity
~W. Dayton Wegefarth (1885–1973), "The Silent Voice," Smiles and Sighs, 1910

Death ends a life… but it does not end a relationship... ~Robert Woodruff Anderson, I Never Sang For My Father, 1966

We cannot judge a biography by its length.
Nor by the number of pages in it.
We must judge it by the richness of its contents.
Sometimes those unfinished are among the most poignant.
We can not judge a song by its duration.
Nor by the number of its notes.
We must judge it by the way it touches and lifts our souls.
Sometimes those unfinished are among the most beautiful.
And when something has enriched your life.
And when its melody lingers on in your heart.
Is it unfinished?
Or is it endless?
~Vi Keeland and Dylan Scott, Left Behind, 2014

Young, loving, and beloved! oh cruel Death!
Couldst thou not spare the treasure for a while?
~Mary Ann H. Dodd Shutts (1813–1878), "The Mourner"

'T is hard to part with one so sudden call'd,
So young, so happy, and so dearly loved;
To see the arrow at our idol hurl'd,
And vainly pray the shaft may be removed.
~Mary Ann H. Dodd Shutts (1813–1878), "The Mourner"

In tears alone must my full heart have vent,
And in no language but in sighs lament?
~Ophelia, "To the Memory of a deceased Friend," The Gentleman's Magazine, 1751

I too, have been a mourner. Sorrow deep
Its lava-tide around my pathway roll'd...
All joy grew dim before my tearful eye,
Which but the shadow of the grave could see;
There was no brightness in the earth or sky,
There was no sunshine in the world for me.
~Mary Ann H. Dodd Shutts (1813–1878), "The Mourner"

When you're shivering with loss, let love keep you warm with memories. ~Terri Guillemets

No hope that ever warmed a human heart
      Was lost when that heart crumbled into dust:
      The dreams that woke the sunrise of the world are ours—
      Our dead walk with us daily, hand in hand.
      But every joy we know to give or keep;
      By hearts more gentle, and by eyes more true,
      They are our own, and undivided still.
In memory! In memory of the dead!
      In tenderness and hope for all who live!
      Peace with you, ye that lie at rest!
      Hope with you, ye that live and yet must face
      The pain of living!
      In memory, in hope, in tenderness!
~Sharlot Mabridth Hall (1870–1943), "Memoriam," Cactus and Pine: Songs of the Southwest, 1910

'T is grief, but all its bitterness is past;
'T is sorrow, but its murmurings are o'er.
Within my soul, which to the storm was bow'd,
Now the white wing of Peace is folded deep;
And I have found, I trust, behind the cloud,
The blessing promised to the eyes that weep.
So thou wilt find relief. For deepest woe
A fount of healing in our pathway springs...
~Mary Ann H. Dodd Shutts (1813–1878), "The Mourner"

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