Quotes About Loss

Maybe he was worried that I would get thinner and thinner, until I became as unfindable as my mother, and I felt a stab of compassion for him, imagining my father alone in this house with the white shadows of his two invisible women.

Well, I keep forgetting. You never listened to my suggestions. Never asked for my advice. When I built my luminous prison around you, you simply lay down at the center of it and died.

The wind has toppled the telescope over onto the lawn: So much for stars. Your brief shot at the universe, gone.

I was there, where the pale words, like light on a wave. Where the forgotten music was still played. The lovers, gone. Their beds unmade.

My eyes closed, hands open, Take it, take it . Then, every day wasted chasing it.

I am sixteen when my mother steps out of her skin one frozen January afternoon- pure self, atoms twinkling like microscopic diamond chips around her, perhaps the chiming of a clock, or a few bright flute notes in the distance- and disappears. No one sees her leave, but she is gone.

What would answers offer and--more importantly--what might they take away?

I've been in love and it doesn't last. And when it's over, it's hell for a while. And then one discovers that life goes on. Eventually, one falls in love again. This pattern repeats itself until one is too jaded to believe in it anymore, or too old for all the upheaval.

Olivia watched him through a blur of tears, despising the futility of it. For there was nothing she could say to comfort a man whose family was long dead; there was no balm to heal wounds that scored a man's soul; and there was no way to make a man believe in the ties that bind.

He could feel the only woman he had ever wanted slipping away for the third time, and he knew that this time, the pain of losing her would annihilate her.

You were different after your father died. She was wrong, of course. It was true that he'd changed toward her, but she had misinterpreted the cause. It wasn't his father's death and his ascension to the title the year before that caused him to shut her out the summer she came home and treat her as a servant rather than a friend. It was the fact that being friends with her had ceased to be enough, and anything more had never been possible.

The thing about death is that it's honest.

Ten years. Ten years. Rachel missed her father every day. Not consciously, but his absence was a part of her, like a vine that wraps around a structure, sustains it even as it weakens it.

But then again—if one doesn't forgive someone, doesn't one, in a sense, lose that person forever?

A woman dies young, it's man trouble.

He was gone. Kiss

They could not love Rosalind as much as they loved Olivia because they knew she could be taken from them.

La Muerte tiene una hermana, más taimada y perseverante, que se llama Agonía. La dama Agonía me sostiene en sus brazos desde aquella vez-

That lost literature which only death reads.

Because we don't have your typical gaps around here. Not gaps made of rocks or mountains. We have gaps in the world. In the space of things. So many places to lose yourself, if you believe that they're there. You can slip into the gap and never find your way out. Or maybe you don't want to find your way out.

That seemed to be the most horrible thing of all, that you could lose something so precious to you, something you loved, and still go on.

I know you didn't have much time with Sam. And it isn't fair. But that doesn't mean it was any less real. That's something to hold on to, so hold on to it" -Loretta

And when your brother cries for her, I will feed on his tears.

Forge ahead despite your pain and give meaning to your loss.