Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away... and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast.... be happy about your growth, in which of course you can't take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don't torment them with your doubts and don't frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn't be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn't necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust.... and don't expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.
Listen to the people who love you. Believe that they are worth living for even when you don't believe it. Seek out the memories depression takes away and project them into the future. Be brave; be strong; take your pills. Exercise because it's good for you even if every step weighs a thousand pounds. Eat when food itself disgusts you. Reason with yourself when you have lost your reason.
We don't leave anything behind because we have it right there with us.
The more attention you give to your loved ones, the less affection you recieve from them.
Every broken heart has screamed at one time or another: Why can't you see who I truly am?
...so i will greet you in a way all loved things are meant to be greeted with a tear in my heart and a poem in my eye.
When the clock stops on a life, all things emanating from it become precious, finite, and cordoned off for preservation. Each aspect of the dead person is removed from the flux of the everyday, which, of course, is where we miss him most. The quarantine around death makes it feel unlucky and wrong--a freakish incursion--and the dead, thus quarantined, come to seem more dead than they already are.... Borrowing from the dead is a way of keeping them engaged in life's daily transactions--in other words, alive.
How wicked it would be, if we could, to call the dead back! She said not to me but to the chaplain, 'I am at peace with God.' She smiled, but not at me. Poi si torno all' eterna fontana.
The dead leave their shadows, an echo of the space within which once they lived. They haunt us, never fading or growing older as we do. The loss we grieve is not just their futures but our own.
One is seldom unchanged by the death of those one loves. It gives me a deeper knowledge of them, and so of oneself in regard to them.
I've decided that there isn't much difference in the way we treat our siblings and the way we treat our special someones. But at the end of it all we know our siblings have to forgive us...or they'll never be able to borrow our car.
To live is to grieve.
There were many things she could have said, but we forget to forge armor against the knife-thrusts of our loved ones.
Voglio solo dire che mi manca quel periodo, quello in mezzo. Quando inizi ad accorgerti di quanto tempo è passato, ma non ti chiedi ancora quanto ne resta. Cioè quello in cui le persone a cui tieni non hanno iniziato a morire.
Most important conversations for humans, concerns those they are having with God, their loved ones, with themselves and with coffee.
The accolades don't nourish me - being with loved ones and my dogs does.
Families don't donate brains of their loved ones unless they're concerned about the person.