Much Quotes (page 67)
How long your closet held a whiff of you, Long after hangers hung austere and bare. I would walk in and suddenly the true. Sharp sweet sweat scent controlled the air. And life was in that small still living breath. Where are you? since so much of you is here, Your unique odour quite ignoring death. My hands reach out to touch, to hold what's dear. And vital in my longing empty arms. But other clothes fill up the space, your space, And scent on scent send out strange false alarms. Not of your...
Madeleine L'Engle
How often the priest had heard the same confession--Man was so limited: he hadn't even the ingenuity to invent a new vice: the animals knew as much. It was for this world that Christ had died: the more evil you saw and heard about you, the greater the glory lay around the death; it was too easy to die for what was good or beautiful, for home or children or civilization--it needed a God to die for the half-hearted and the corrupt.
Graham Greene
You can not die of grief, though it feels as if you can. A heart does not actually break, though sometimes your chest aches as if it is breaking. Grief dims with time. It is the way of things. There comes a day when you smile again, and you feel like a traitor. How dare I feel happy. How dare I be glad in a world where my father is no more. And then you cry fresh tears, because you do not miss him as much as you once did, and giving up your grief is another kind of death.
Laurell K. Hamilton
Up then, fair phoenix bride, frustrate the sun; Thyself from thine affection. Takest warmth enough, and from thine eye. All lesser birds will take their jollity. Up, up, fair bride, and call. Thy stars from out their several boxes, take. Thy rubies, pearls, and diamonds forth, and make. Thyself a constellation of them all; And by their blazing signify. That a great princess falls, but doth not die. Be thou a new star, that to us portends. Ends of much wonder; and be thou those ends.
John Donne