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“Don't say mourning. It's too psychoanalytic. I'm not mourning. I'm suffering.”
Roland Barthes“Don't say mourning. It's too psychoanalytic. I'm not mourning. I'm suffering.”
Roland Barthes, Mourning Diary“I transform "Work" in its analytic meaning (the Work of Mourning, the Dream-Work) into the real "Work" - of writing.”
Roland Barthes, Mourning Diary“The effects of loss are acute, and unique to each individual. Not everyone mourns in the same way, but everyone mourns.”
Richelle E. Goodrich, Making Wishes“It is not as if an 'I' exists independently over here and then simply loses a 'you' over there, especially if the attachment to 'you' is part of what composes who 'I' am. If I lose you, under these conditions, then I not only mourn the loss, but I become inscrutable to myself. Who 'am' I, without you? When we lose some of these ties by which we are constituted, we do not know who we are or what to do. On one level, I think I have lost 'you' only to discover that 'I' have gone missing as well. At another level, perhaps what I have lost 'in' you, that for which I have no vocabulary, is a relationality that is composed neither exclusively of myself nor you, but is to be conceived as *the tie* by which those terms are differentiated and related.”
Judith Butler, Precarious Life: The Powers of Mourning and Violence“How do you mourn endless numbers of people in endless numbers of places? Is there a form for it, a requisite time and place for mourning? Is there ever an end to it? Can there ever be an end to it?”
Rosario Morales, Getting Home Alive“Until now I had been able only to grieve, not mourn. Grief was passive. Grief happened. Mourning, the act of dealing with grief, required attention.”
Joan Didion“Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.”
Matthew“In the kitchen, her family nibbled Helen’s lemon squares. Melanie urged brownies on the nurses. “Take these,” she told Lorraine. “We can’t eat them all, but Helen won’t stop baking.”“Sweetheart,” Lorraine said, “everybody mourns in her own way.”Helen mourned her sister deeply. She arrived each day with shopping bags. Her cake was tender with sliced apples, but her almond cookies crumbled at the touch. Her pecan bars were awful, sticky-sweet and hard enough to break your teeth. They remained untouched in the dining room, because Helen never threw good food away.”
Allegra Goodman, Apple Cake“Shall we mourn here deedless forever a shadow-folk mist-haunting dropping vain tears in the thankless sea”
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion“It's all rather political, mourning is.”
Melina Marchetta, Looking for Alibrandi