Best 22 quotes in «widowhood quotes» category

the final lesson of learning to be independent - widowhood ... is the hardest lesson of all.

Widow. The word consumes itself.

Widows are divided into two classes - the bereaved and relieved.

And by the way, Lanwa, you must stop preaching the sermon of our people’s old custom and tradition. This your long story of kinsman and cousin and half-brother connection with my late husband cannot catch me like a deer in a snare! I reserve the right to choose the type of life I want to lead. It could be that of woman deliberately aloof in self-contentment, untouched by the victimisation and oppression of the man; or that of a woman sulking the anger of an injury, protesting humiliations heaped on her, over the years by the man. I may choose to shield off man, permanently in my life, and transfer all affection and devotion to my children, spoiling them every minute with motherly love and care. I may deliberately engage in twenty different odd jobs, from cockcrow to cockroost, not resting and not sparing any moment to talk to men, or even look at any man’s face. Not your business Lanwa, how I want to live my life!

I guess 'joint' would imply two people had ownership, which, thanks Life, is simply no longer the case.

End the affair briskly, and without allowing the slightest room for doubt,' Griselda continued. 'Tell the gentleman that while you are grateful for the lovely time that you spent in his company, you have seen the error of your ways and wish to lead a celibate existence. You can add some flummery about his having given you pleasure you never experienced before, if you wish.' Imogen nodded, wishing she had Josie's little book to take notes in. 'On occasion, a hitherto rational man might act in a thoroughly distracted fashion when you inform him of your wish to end the relationship. I generally inform them that while I am not betraying poor Willoughby (he /is/ dead, after all), I have decided, upon reflection, that I am betraying myself. They never have any adequate rebuttal, and you can part on the best of terms.

...Daisy doesn't even go to his funeral, Nick and Jordan part ways, and Daisy ends up sticking with racist Tom... you can tell Fitzgerald never took the time to look up at clouds during sunset, because there's no silver lining at the end of that book, let me tell you. I do see why Nikki likes the novel, as it's written so well. But her liking it makes me worry now that Nikki really doesn't believe in silver linings, because she says The Great Gatsby is the greatest novel ever written by an American, and yet it ends so sadly. One thing's for sure, Nikki is going to be very proud of me when I tell her I finally read her favorite book. -Silver Linings Playbook, p. 9

In this way unwittingly the Widow-to-Be is assuring her husband’s death—his doom. Even as she believes she is behaving intelligently—“shrewdly” and “reasonably”—she is taking him to a teeming petri dish of lethal bacteria where within a week he will succumb to a virulent staph infection—a “hospital” infection acquired in the course of his treatment for pneumonia. Even as she is fantasizing that he will be home for dinner she is assuring that he will never return home. How unwitting, all Widows-to-Be who imagine that they are doing the right thing, in innocence and ignorance!

In the first year of my grief, there were times when I felt like hiding my personal story of loss and other times when I wanted to wear a sign on my body that read "Be nice to me, I'm grieving," or "Don't tick me off; I've already got the world on my shoulders," or maybe even "BEWARE - don't upset the widow!" I needed a variety of signs that I could switch out depending on my daily mood.

I think first of the children. What the hell am I supposed to tell them? Then I think about money, the house, all those things no widow will tell you ever crossed her mind.

siguió evocando hasta el amanecer las excelencias del marido, sin reprocharle otra deslealtad que la de haberse muerto sin ella, y redimida por la certidumbre de que nunca había sido tan suyo como lo era entonces, dentro de un cajón clavado con doce clavos de tres pulgadas, y a dos metros debajo de la tierra. —Soy feliz —dijo— porque sólo ahora sé con seguridad dónde está cuando no está en la casa.

It's like Romeo & Juliet,' I say. 'You can't separate them. Otherwise, there would be no Shakespeare.' Silence. I decide to be more straightforward. I tell him, 'Nothing frightens me anymore. I am not even afraid to die.' Bussey's eyes, already wide open, grow even wider. My death is the last thing he needs. I have the strange feeling that there are two of me. One observes the conversation while the other does the talking. Everything is abnormal, especially this extreme calm that has taken me over. I try to explain to Bussey that if I decide to die, it will be without bitterness. I know I did everything I possibly could, so it will be respectful farewell. I will bow to life like an actor, who, having delivered his lines, bends deeply to his audience & retires. I tell Bussey that this decision has nothing to do with him, that it is entirely mine. I will choose either to live or to die, but I cannot allow myself to live in the in-between. I do not want to go through life like a ghost. 'Do you think you'll find Danny this way?' Bussey asks. My mind sifts through all available theories on the afterlife. It is as if this metaphysical question has become as real as the air we breathe. Buddhism teaches that life is an eternal cycle without beginning or end. I recall the metaphor: "Our individual lives are like waves produced from the great ocean that is the universe. The emergence of a wave is life, and its abatement is death. This rhythm repeats eternally." Finally I answer Bussey, 'No, I don't think so.' Bussey seems relieved, but I'm more panicky, because I had never thought that I could wind up alone. In my mind, whatever the odds, Danny & I were & would be together forever.

Men should think twice before making widowhood women's only path to power.

She did not belong to the healthy group of widows and widowers who, after mourning, would nurture the seed of their grief into growing from loss—perhaps continuing the dreams of the lost, or learning to cherish alone the things they’d cherished together. She belonged instead to the sad lot who clung to grief, who nurtured it by never moving beyond it. They’d shelter it deep inside where the years padded it in saudade layers like some malignant pearl.

It was a popular theory at the time that death didn't automatically end a marriage because the spouses would eventually be reunited in heaven. The most pragmatic reason for the Church's view was that England was a land-based society and property was inherited upon the death of a spouse, so a remarriage threatened the inheritance of any issue from the previous union.

The husband who came back to ask for more prayers said: We cannot hold intercourse with one another, but no words of mine can describe to you the comfort we all feel when anyone on earth does any good deed on our behalf, especially having Mass but most of all receiving Holy Communion.

What changes when a woman marries? What does a woman lose and what does she gain? For Abishag, marrying king David gave her instant status. As a wife, impugning Abishag's character meant a swift death. As a wife, she inspired fear. What changes when a woman is widowed? For Abishag, it meant foreign women came to Jerusalem to marry Solomon--and she was relegated to that of a spectator. In Abishag's widowhood, none feared her. pg 17

You never hear widows voice the sentiment, but I could stave off companionship indefinitely. Sex, not so much.

You're not a virgin and you didn't get divorced, but suddenly there's this thing you can start doing again with someone who is not your husband.

I don't believe in divorce. I believe in widowhood.

You will say things with a merry tongue; you are not one for graceless words and no one will take offence. I will cause you to instruct many and your words will carry because they are not your words but my words – living words passing from generation to generation even to those yet unborn.

Widowhood sure as shit becomes you. Christ, look at you.