Quotes About Lost

We are never so lost that our angels cannot find us.

The tourist may complain of other tourists, but he would be lost without them.

Everyone is born with genius, but most people only keep it a few minutes.

Lost is not a place. It's a soul in paralysis... waiting to feel moved.

it's a lot easier to be lost than found.

It's these little things, they can pull you underLive your life filled with joy and wonderI always knew this altogether thunderWas lost in our little lives

This person was so much more special and wonderful inside than he knew. He had always belonged in the light with me, no matter how lost in the dark he felt.

The past you lost is just like a dream. As you woke up new lifestarts. So, your actual birthday will be your death day.

Snow is like a wide sea. One could go out and be lost in it and forget the world, and oneself.

Only when we are truly lost are we free to choose our own path.

I'm not sure what happened to me over the last few days. I lost myself, I think. I sank down into a hole for a while. They're tricky things, holes. You don't know you're in one until you get out.

Put a stocking over the end of a vacuum to find tiny items.

Book-jacket design may become a lost art, like album-cover design, without which late-20th-century iconography would have been pauperized.

I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.I have wasted my life.

But I cry anyway because it was a path I could have taken and didn't. I cry for the lost idea, the lost concept. Sometimes I cry, too, for who I was as an artist and what my life could have been like if only I had kept going. I weep for my lost identities. I weep for my possibilities.

Clarity is what a person's psychology is always endeavouring to return to. Innate clarity and resilience are always shining a beacon, even when a person seems hopelessly lost…

Freedom Now heaven be thanked, I am out of love again! I have been long a slave, and now am free; I have been tortured, and am eased of pain; I have been blind, and now my eyes can see; I have been lost, and now the way lies plain; I have been caged, and now I hold the key; I have been mad, and now at last am sane; I am wholly I, that was but a half of me. So, a free man, my dull proud path I plod, Who, tortured, blind, mad, caged, was once a God.

Little soul, you have wandered lost a long time.

We try a new drug, a new combination of drugs, and suddenly I fall into my life again like a vole picked up by a storm then dropped three valleys and two mountains away from home. I can find my way back. I know I will recognize the store where I used to buy milk and gas. I remember the house and barn, the rake, the blue cups and plates, the Russian novels I loved so much, and the black silk nightgown that he once thrust into the toe of my Christmas stocking.

It would be nice to travel if you knew where you were going and where you would live at the end or do we ever know, do we ever live where we live, we're always in other places, lost, like sheep.

All writers are exiles wherever they live and their work is a lifelong journey towards the lost land.

Were my imagination greater I would grant stories to the souls lost to history. Were I able to hear with my bones I wold know the underside of their colossal silence.

If I told you I've worked hard to get where I'm at, I'd be lying, because I have no idea where I am right now.

If we allow our self-congratulatory adoration of technology to distract us from our own contact with each other, then somehow the original agenda has been lost.