Quotes About Lost

he would have been lost except he started out lost and when you start out completely lost, it's hard to get loster.

I want to go home, thought Ender, but I don't know where it is.

Yes," said Ender. "He's one of your flock, isn't he? So leave the ninety-nine, shepherd, and come with us to save the one that's lost.

I think you are wrong, Basil, but I won't argue with you. It is only the intellectually lost who ever argue.

It is only the intellectually lost who ever argue.

Learning without thought is labour lost; thought without learning is perilous.

The multinationals who'd been backing Darby and Gentilla lost interest, and time travel had been handed over to historians and scientists

The names of the cerros and the sierras and the deserts exist only on maps. We name them that we do not lose our way. Yet it was because the way was lost to us already that we have made those names. The world cannot be lost. We are the ones. And it is because these names and these coordinates are our own naming that they cannot save us. They cannot find for us the way again.

In what direction did lost men veer?

He couldn't remember where he was. The thought made him smile

Do you remember that little boy, Papa? Yes. I remember him. Do you think he's all right that little boy? Oh yes. I think he's all right. Do you think he was lost? No. I don't think he was lost. I'm scared that he was lost. I think he's all right. But who will find him if he's lost? Who will find that little boy? Goodness will find the little boy. It always has. It will again.

He went among vendors and beggars and wild street preachers haranguing a lost world with vigor unknown to the sane. Suttree admired them with their hot eyes and dogeared bibles, God's barkers gone forth into the world like the prophets of old.

Tell us where the world went.

But who will find him if he's lost? Who will find the little boy? Goodness will find the little boy. It always has. It will again.

They'd put an awning up over the gravesite but the weather was all sideways and it did no good. The canvas rattled and flapped and the preacher's words were lost in the wind.

Lumea nu are nici un nume. Numele de cerros, sierras si deserturi exista numai pe harti. Le punem nume ca sa nu ne ratacim. Dar am inventat aceste nume tocmai pentru ca am ratacit deja drumul. Lumea nu se poate pierde. Noi ne pierdem. Si tocmai pentru ca noi am pus numele acestea si am numit aceste coordonate, numele lor nu ne poate salva. Nu pot regasi drumul in locul nostru.

Such a man is like a dreamer who wakes from a dream of grief to a greater sorrow yet. All that he loves is now become a torment to him. The pin has been pulled from the axis of the universe. Whatever one takes one's eye from threatens to flee away. Such a man is lost to us. He moves and speaks. But he is himself less than the merest shadow among all that he beholds. There is no picture of him possible. The smallest mark upon the page exaggerates his presence

It is not to be thought that the life of darkness is sunk in misery and lost as if in sorrowing. There is no sorrowing. For sorrow is a thing that is swallowed up in death, and death and dying are the very life of the darkness. JACOB BOEHME

Cuando los corderos se pierden en el monte, dijo, se les oye llorar. Unas veces acude la madre. Otras el lobo. Les

His father rode sitting forward slightly in the saddle, holding the reins in one hand about two inches above the saddlehorn. So thin and frail, lost in his clothes. Looking over the country with those sunken eyes as if the world out there had been altered or made suspect by what he'd seen of it elsewhere. As if he might never see it right again. Or worse did see it right at last. See it as it had always been, would forever be.

We are like primitive tribes that have been driven from their culture and have lost their orientation, their identity, their capacity to live.

Quite suddenly Meggie felt fear rise in her like black brackish water, she felt lost, terribly lost, she felt it in every part of her. She didn't belong here! What had she done?

From the tower battlements, Dustfinger looked down on a lake as black as night, where the reflection of the castle swam in a sea of stars. The wind passing over his unscarred face was cold from the snow of the surrounding mountains, and Dustfinger relished life as if he were tasting it for the first time. The longing it brought, and the desire. All the bitterness, all the sweetness, even if it was only for a while, never for more than a while, everything gained and lost, lost and found again.

It was a chilly morning after the night's rain, and the sun hung in the sky like a pale coin lost by someone high up in the clouds.