I can’t shake you.

I think clapping is how mourn.

the evil thing is inside, not out.

We never stopped being each other.

Let me be to my sad self hereafter kind.

I am very familiar with the sound of loss.

Each of us has his own rhythm of suffering.

It's all rather political, mourning is.

Mourning has its place but also its limits.

An explosion in space makes no sound at all.

Come back. Even as a shadow, even as a dream.

There is a period for hope and one for mourning.

When all that's left of me is love, Give me away.

When one person is missing the whole world seems empty.

And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief;