Quotes About Loss

When some men die it is as if you had lost your pen-knife, and were subject to perpetual inconvenience until you could get another. Other men's going is like the vanishing of a great mountain from the landscape, and the outlook of life is changed forever.

Death is never a clean break — some stardust always remains.

buried with love and starshine— a grave ever glowing with memories

No one ever really dies as long as they took the time to leave us with fond memories.

Death is a sudden silence — one of those deafening silences that leaves ringing in your ears.

When he died, Daddy went to the Wildlands for sure... He rode a tornado to get there.

A headstone is just a bookmark in our unfinished lives.

Why do the loveliest of earth The soonest pass away,— Like radiant flowers of summer birth, earliest to decay? They come, like angel forms, to bless Our visions for a while; They make our daily burden less, And half our tears beguile. They grow so deeply in our hearts, We make them idols there; Till God, in love, asunder parts, The ties which bind them here.

Earth has one angel less, and heaven one more...

...Though much it seems a wonder and a wo That one so loved should be so early lost, And hallowed tears may unforbidden flow To mourn the blossom that we cherished most: Yet all is well; God's good design I see, That where our treasure is, our hearts may be!

A light is from our household gone, A voice we loved is stilled. A place is vacant at our hearth Which never can be filled; A gentle heart, that throbbed but now With tenderness and love, Has hushed its weary throbbings here, To throb in bliss above...

I rocked her in the cradle, And laid her in the tomb.

I am all alone in my chamber now, And the midnight hour is near... Over my soul, in its solitude, Sweet feelings of sadness glide; For my heart and my eyes are full, when I think Of the little boy that died...

[B]ut his own vehicle had been a wreck of rust and nostalgia.

Any man can lose his hat in a fairy-wind.

Life is not a fairy tale. If you lose your shoe at midnight, chance are you will be walking home barefoot.

Here's to the fish he caught, Here's to the one that got away, And here's to the one he bought.

The stem of a departed flower Has still a silent rank, The bearer from an emerald court Of a despatch of pink.

The most beautiful roses grow on graves.

In a bet there is a fool and a thief.

Gaming is the son of avarice and the father of despair.

When we lose God, it is not God who is lost.

Fearing to lose what you have is not the same as appreciation. You have to move a step beyond that.

Funeral grief loathes words.