Let no one again
Have to begin, love, or end, alone.

Survivors do not mourn together. They each mourn alone, even when in the same place. Grief is the most solitary of all feelings. Grief isolates, and every ritual, every gesture, every embrace, is a hopeless effort to break through that isolation.
None of it works. The forms crumble and dissolve.
To face death is to stand alone.

The love that lonely people crave
Follows them into their grave
Oh…we should never leave them lonely.

'Cause it can feel like perfection,
But never all the time.
And you don't wanna be alone again.
Oh my, my.

It is terrible to be alone.
I don't mean to live alone — -
to be alone, where no one hears you.

And I, the last, go forth companionless,
And the days darken round me, and the years,
Among new men, strange faces, other minds.

Let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

Alone!—that worn-out word,
So idly spoken, and so coldly heard;
Yet all that poets sing, and grief hath known,
Of hope laid waste, knells in that word ALONE!

love one another, but make not a bond of love:
let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

"How terrible," said Eragon, "to die alone, separate even from the one who is closest to you."

Everyone dies alone, Eragon. Whether you are a king on a battlefield or a lowly peasant lying in bed among your family, no one can accompany you into the void.

Such a great misfortune, not to be able to be alone.

Embrace your solitude and love it. Endure the pain it causes, and try to sing out with it. For those near to you are distant...

When true hearts lie wither'd
And fond ones are flown,
Oh, who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?

Grief isolates, and every ritual, every gesture, every embrace, is a hopeless effort to break through that isolation. None of it works. The forms crumble and dissolve. To face death is to stand alone.