We should not cry about something that was taken from us, but, yes, love what we have been given. Because what is really ours is never gone forever.

Instead of weeping when a tragedy occurs in a songbird's life, it sings away its grief. I believe we could well follow the pattern of our feathered friends.

My grief lies onward, and my joy behind.

Short time seems long in sorrow's sharp sustaining.

Grief makes one hour ten.

To weep is to make less the depth of grief.