Condolence Messages Quotes

Hercules expressed no wonder at any point of the recital, but when he heard of Medea’s infatuation for Jason he sighed and remarked with unusual mildness, ”The poor girl, I pity her! Echion, my friend, I have a message for you to deliver, and here is my silver cup in payment. Tell the Princess I condole with her, no less heartily than I condoled with Queen Hypsipyle of Lemnos. Tell her that Jason will treat her no less faithlessly than he treated Hypsipyle, though for his sake she has cut herself off from her own house and people and become an accessory to parricide and fratricide. Assure her that when he deserts her, whether it be this year or next year or in twelve years’ time, she can steadfastly count upon Hercules of Tiryns to avenge her or comfort her.

Hercules expressed no wonder at any point of the recital, but when he heard of Medea’s infatuation for Jason he sighed and remarked with unusual mildness, ”The poor girl, I pity her! Echion, my friend, I have a message for you to deliver, and here is my silver cup in payment. Tell the Princess I condole with her, no less heartily than I condoled with Queen Hypsipyle of Lemnos. Tell her that Jason will treat her no less faithlessly than he treated Hypsipyle, though for his sake she has cut herself off from her own house and people and become a come an accessory to parricide and fratricide. Assure her that when he deserts her, whether it be this year or next year or in twelve years’ time, she can steadfastly count upon Hercules of Tiryns to avenge her or comfort her.

Hercules expressed no wonder at any point of the recital, but when he heard of Medea’s infatuation for Jason he sighed and remarked with unusual mildness, ”The poor girl, I pity her! Echion, my friend, I have a message for you to deliver, and here is my silver cup in payment. Tell the Princess I condole with her, no less heartily than I condoled with Queen Hypsipyle of Lemons. Tell her that Jason will treat her no less faithlessly than he treated Hypsipyle, though for his sake she has cut herself off from her own house and people and become a come an accessory to parricide and fratricide. Assure her that when he deserts her, whether it be this year or next year or in twelve years’ time, she can steadfastly count upon Hercules of Tiryns to avenge her or comfort her.

He stared at it in utter disbelief while his secretary, Peters, who’d only been with him for a fortnight, muttered a silent prayer of gratitude for the break and continued scribbling as fast as he could, trying futilely to catch up with his employer’s dictation. “This,” said Ian curtly, “was sent to me either by mistake or as a joke. In either case, it’s in excruciatingly bad taste.” A memory of Elizabeth Cameron flickered across Ian’s mind-a mercenary, shallow litter flirt with a face and body that had drugged his mind. She’d been betrothed to a viscount when he’d met her. Obviously she hadn’t married her viscount-no doubt she’d jilted him in favor of someone with even better prospects. The English nobility, as he well knew, married only for prestige and money, then looked elsewhere for sexual fulfillment. Evidently Elizabeth Cameron’s relatives were putting her back on the marriage block. If so, they must be damned eager to unload her if they were willing to forsake a title for Ian’s money…That line of conjecture seemed so unlikely that Ian dismissed it. This note was obviously a stupid prank, perpetrated, no doubt, by someone who remembered the gossip that had exploded over that weekend house party-someone who thought he’d find the note amusing. Completely dismissing the prankster and Elizabeth Cameron from his mind, Ian glanced at his harassed secretary who was frantically scribbling away. “No reply is necessary,” he said. As he spoke he flipped the message across his desk toward his secretary, but the white parchment slid across the polished oak and floated to the floor. Peters made an awkward dive to catch it, but as he lurched sideways all the other correspondence that went with his dictation slid off his lap onto the floor. “I-I’m sorry, sir,” he stammered, leaping up and trying to collect the dozens of pieces of paper he’d scattered on the carpet. “Extremely sorry, Mr. Thornton,” he added, frantically snatching up contracts, invitations and letters and shoving them into a disorderly pile. His employer appeared not to hear him. He was already rapping out more instructions and passing the corresponding invitations and letters across the desk. “Decline the first three, accept the fourth, decline the fifth. Send my condolences on this one. On this one, explain that I’m going to be in Scotland, and send an invitation to join me there, along with directions to the cottage.” Clutching the papers to his chest, Peters poked his face up on the opposite side of the desk. “Yes, Mr. Thornton!” he said, trying to sound confident. But it was hard to be confident when one was on one’s knees. Harder still when one wasn’t entirely certain which instructions of the morning went with which invitation or piece of correspondence. Ian Thornton spent the rest of the afternoon closeted with Peters, heaping more dictation on the inundated clerk. He spent the evening with the Earl of Melbourne, his future father-in-law, discussing the earl’s daughter and himself. Peters spent part of his evening trying to learn from the butler which invitations his employer was likely to accept or reject.

After Steve’s death I received letters of condolence from people all over the world. I would like to thank everyone who sent such thoughtful sympathy. Your kind words and support gave me the strength to write this book and so much more. Carolyn Male is one of those dear people who expressed her thoughts and feelings after we lost Steve. It was incredibly touching and special, and I wanted to express my appreciation and gratitude. I’m happy to share it with you. It is with a still-heavy heart that I rise this evening to speak about the life and death of one of the greatest conservationists of our time: Steve Irwin. Many people describe Steve Irwin as a larrikin, inspirational, spontaneous. For me, the best way I can describe Steve Irwin is formidable. He would stand and fight, and was not to be defeated when it came to looking after our environment. When he wanted to get things done--whether that meant his expansion plans for the zoo, providing aid for animals affected by the tsunami and the cyclones, organizing scientific research, or buying land to conserve its environmental and habitat values--he just did it, and woe betide anyone who stood in his way. I am not sure I have ever met anyone else who was so determined to get the conservation message out across the globe, and I believe he achieved his aim. What I admired most about him was that he lived the conservation message every day of his life. Steve’s parents, Bob and Lyn, passed on their love of the Australian bush and their passion for rescuing and rehabilitating wildlife. Steve took their passion and turned it into a worldwide crusade. The founding of Wildlife Warriors Worldwide in 2002 provided Steve and Terri with another vehicle to raise awareness of conservation by allowing individuals to become personally involved in protecting injured, threatened, or endangered wildlife. It also has generated a working fund that helps with the wildlife hospital on the zoo premises and supports work with endangered species in Asia and Africa. Research was always high on Steve’s agenda, and his work has enabled a far greater understanding of crocodile behavior, population, and movement patterns. Working with the Queensland Parks and Wildlife Service and the University of Queensland, Steve was an integral part of the world’s first Crocs in Space research program. His work will live on and inform us for many, many years to come. Our hearts go out to his family and the Australia Zoo family. It must be difficult to work at the zoo every day with his larger-than-life persona still very much evident. Everyone must still be waiting for him to walk through the gate. His presence is everywhere, and I hope it lives on in the hearts and minds of generations of wildlife warriors to come. We have lost a great man in Steve Irwin. It is a great loss to the conservation movement. My heart and the hearts of everyone here goes out to his family. Carolyn Male, Member for Glass House, Queensland, Australia October 11, 2006

The sperm donor that impregnated my mother (with me), passed away. Please, stop sending me private messages of condolences. I never met the man.

We treat effort as a second-class citizen. It’s the condolence message we send ourselves when we fail. We say, “I gave it my best shot,” or “I get an A for effort.” But after a few days, quantifying effort rather than outcome reveals patterns that we’d otherwise miss.

were all blank. “And I can see you’re busy.” In the hallway, she opened her front door for him. “No messages for the others?” Lamb said, pulling his gloves on. “Words of condolence?” “Tell them I’ll be in touch.” “Grand. And what about the Old Bastard?” “. . . What about him?” “You planning on keeping him in your bedroom forever, or do you want me to arrange for someone

I was assured that nothing would appear in the press, and that I need only see the Duce for a few minutes. All that he wanted to do was to shake hands with me and to convey personally his condolences at my wife’s death. So we argued for a full hour with all courtesy on both sides but with increasing strain; it was a most exhausting hour for me and probably more so for the other party. The time fixed for the interview was at last upon us and I had my way. A telephone message was sent to the Duce’s palace that I could not come.

That evening [April 13, 1945] Dad [General Eisenhower], General Bradley, General Hodges, a group of aides, and I sat around talking. Dad had just sent his message of condolences to President Roosevelt's widow. But the thing most on his mind was the horror camp near Gotha that he had gone through only the day before. The scene of the atrocities had left him visibly shaken and he had not yet adjusted the entire episode in his mind. With him on the visit was the reputedly rough-and-tough George Patton, who had become physically ill. Dad had cabled home to ask for a contingent of reporters and legislators to come immediately to witness.

I am feeling disgusted with myself and having a heavy heart. That I didn’t get time to share other people’s work, talent, skills, business on my social platform to support them, but the only time I share something regarding them is R.I.P and message of condolences to their family and loved ones.