“We did not dare to breathe a prayer, Or give our anguish scope. Something was dead within each of us, And what was dead was Hope.”

“How we keep these dead souls in our hearts. Each one of us carries within himself his necropolis.”

“We may forget our dead, but dead will never forget us. They call upon us from the border of unknown, reminding us of our solemn duties in fulfilling their hopes”

“He may delay because it would not be safe to give us at once what we ask: we are not ready for it. To give ere we could truly receive, would be to destroy the very heart and hope of prayer, to cease to be our Father. The delay itself may work to bring us nearer to our help, to increase the desire, perfect the prayer, and ripen the receptive condition.”

“Graves are for the living, not the dead. It gives us something to concentrate on instead of the fact that our loved one is rotting under the ground.”

“I looked out into the dead garden. Against the fading light, my shadow hovered in the glass, looking into the dead room. What did she make of us? I wondered. What did she think of our attempts to persuade ourselves that this was life and that we were really living it?”