Quotes About Lost

things?—I was once a fortunate man, but I lost it, I know not how.—But fortunate means that a man has assigned to himself a good fortune: and a good fortune is good disposition of the soul, good emotions, good actions.

So this was the rest of his life. It felt like a party to which he'd been invited, but at an address he couldn't actually locate. Someone must be having fun at it, this life of his; only, right at the moment, it wasn't him.

In my dreams of this city I am always lost.

More and more I feel like a letter—deposited here, collected there. But a letter addressed to no one.

It has thrown off its disguise as a meal and has revealed itself to me for what it is, a large dead bird. I'm eating a wing. It's the wing of a tame turkey, the stupidest bird in the world, so stupid it can't even fly any more. I am eating lost flight.

All that wasted time, and he didn't even know who'd wasted it.

You don't understand much, he says. Why do you think I was lost in the impenetrable forest in the first place?

Like a White Russian drinking tea in Paris, marooned in the twentieth century, I wander back, try to regain hose distant pathways; I become too maudlin, lose myself. Weep...I sit in the chair and ooze like a sponge.

She sees where she is, she's here, by herself, she's stranded in the future. She doesn't know how to get back.

So this was the rest of his life. It felt like a party to which he'd been invited, but at an address he couldn't actually locate. Someone must be having fun at it, this life of his; only, right at the moment, it wasn't him.

I'm eating a wing. It's the wing of a tame turkey, the stupidest bird in the world. So stupid it can't even fly anymore. I am eating lost flight.

I had no direction in life, and I felt numb inside, like an orphan.

In Lisbon, a street cry gloated over the Spanish defeat: Which ships got home? The ones the English missed. And where are the rest? The waves will tell you. What happened to them? It is said they are lost. Do we know their names? They know them in London. Oh

His voice stopped and they looked for a long quiet moment into each other's eyes and between them lay the sunny lost youth that they had so unthinkingly shared.

I wonder if they know they are fighting for a cause that was lost the minute the first shot as fired.

they are fighting for a Cause that was lost the minute the first shot was fired, for our Cause is really our own way of living and that is gone already.

Anything lost, can be found again, except for time wasted A vision without action is merely a dream Action, it's the grind, it's the hustle, it's the persistence

Lost, yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered for they are gone forever.

I'm lost. And it's my own fault. It's about time I figured out that I can't ask people to keep me found.

Life's greatest tragedy is not that it will someday end, but that most only live to follow directions and sometimes we end up totally lost.

Life's a game made for everyone and love is the prize. So wake me up when it's all over - when I'm wiser and I'm older. All this time I was finding myself and I didn't know I was lost.

Anesthesia is quite remarkable. Its lost time. And you wake up kind of refreshed.

I'm treading the backward path. Mostly, I just waste my time.

I used to dream about turning back time, about reclaiming the things I'd lost and the person I used to be.