Contents
-BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD
C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.
Mourner
Great sorrow makes sacred the sufferer.
Owen Meredith.
He mourns the dead who lives as they desire.
Young.
How wretched is the man who never mourned!
Young.
Smit with exceeding sorrow unto death.
Tennyson.
They truly mourn, that mourn without a witness.
Baron.
There is a tear for all that die;A mourner o’er the humblest grave.
Byron.
I have that honorable grief lodged here which burns worse than tears drown.
Shakespeare.
Many a smiling face hides a mourning heart; but grief alone teaches us what we are.
Schiller.
Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead; excessive grief the enemy to the living.
Shakespeare.
Sorrows when shared are less burdensome, though joys divided are increased.
J. G. Holland.
To be impatient at the death of a person concerning whom it was certain he must die, is to mourn because thy friend was not born an angel.
Jeremy Taylor.
Heavy sorrow is silent, and the deepest mourning is the most solitary.
Charles Buxton.
The true way to mourn the dead is to take care of the living who belong to them.
Burke.
Away! we know that tears are vain, that death ne’er heeds nor hears distress.
Byron.
Of permanent mourning there is none; no cloud remains fixed. The sun will shine to-morrow.
Richter.
Excess of grief for the deceased is madness; for it is an injury to the living, and the dead know it not.
Xenophon.
No longer mourn for me when I am dead,Than you shall hear the surly sullen bellGive warning to the world that I am fled.
Shakespeare.
Why is the hearse with scutcheons blazon’d round,And with the nodding plume of ostrich crown’d?No: the dead know it not, nor profit gain;It only serves to prove the living vain.
Gay.
Do not, for ever, with thy veiled lidsSeek for thy noble father in the dust;Thou know’st ’tis common; all that lives must die,Passing through nature to eternity.
Shakespeare.
O, very gloomy is the House of Woe,Where tears are falling while the bell is knelling,With all the dark solemnities which showThat Death is in the dwelling!O, very, very dreary is the roomWhere Love, domestic Love, no longer nestles,But smitten by the common stroke of doom,The corpse lies on the trestles!
Hood.
To be left alone in the wide world with scarcely a friend,—this makes the sadness which, striking its pang into the minds of the young and the affectionate, teaches them too soon to watch and interpret the spirit-signs of their own hearts.
Hawthorne.
He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend.Eternity mourns that. ’Tis an ill cureFor life’s worst ills to have no time to feel them.
Sir Henry Taylor.
Let us weep in our darkness—but weep not for him!Not for him—who, departing, leaves millions in tears!Not for him—who has died full of honor and years!Not for him—who ascended Fame’s ladder so high.From the round at the top he has stepped to the sky.
N. P. Willis.
