Quotes About Loss

Can you speak to the dead…like your sister?" Ms. Dupré's body seems to loosen, and her voice gets soft as a feather against your skin. "No, child. But you can say goodbye to someone even after he's gone. You just have to find a way that's right for you.

Nothing can erase the pain of losing someone you love you carry it with you for the rest of your life, however ever long that might be. The best you can hope for is that over time the wounds begin to heal, but no matter how strong we are no matter how hard we fight the scars always stay with us.

By what right did we lure children to their deaths, caught by a glint of light on metal, a trumpery banner?

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,Or busy housewife ply her evening care.

When he died, I felt like a dark, devouring force had been stilled at last. I wore his death like wings.

The most painful death in all the world is the death of a child. When a child dies, when one child dies-not the 11 per 1,000 we talk about statistically, but the one that a mother held briefly in her arms-he leaves an empty place in a parent's heart that will never heal.

Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me,Saying that now you are not as you wereWhen you had changed from the one who was all to me,But as at first, when our day was fair.

There is not one familiar face Where many loved me once! I speak aloud--the lonely place Returns no kind response! Where I and others roved, I see Another roving race; Gay smiles are there--but ah! for me, Not one familiar face!

Friends depart, and memory takes them To her caverns, pure and deep.

My fond affection thou hast seen, Then judge of my regret To think more happy thou hadst been If we had never met.

I ask not now a lover's smile-- These eyes are sunk and dim; But in their ruin, they possess An eloquence for him; Though others pass me--from his heart More sympathy I claim; When I am gone--perchance he'll weep Whene'er he hears my name.

Man sagt: gefallen«, verbessert die Mutter. »Als ob er hingefallen wäre? Das verstehe ich nicht. Er ist doch tot.« »Ja.« Der Vater hat sich eine Zigarette angezündet. »Viele sind tot, Hunderttausende liegen tot da draußen. Und vielleicht, weil man sich das nicht vorstellen mag, nennt man es so.«

People lose people, we lose things in our life as we're constantly growing and changing. That's what life is is change, and a lot of that is loss. It's what you gain from that loss that makes life.

For if one link in nature's chain might be lost, another might be lost, until the whole of things will vanish piecemeal.

We all have to expect to lose something in times like these.

Maribelle Wegman is known as the widow Wegman. Married four times. Three dead husbands. Not her fault, but having managed the hat trick already, she has been given the trophy to keep.

All play, all sport, until Ferdia came to the ford. I thought beloved Ferdia would live forever after me - yesterday, a mountain-side; today, nothing but a shade.

VICEROY OF PORTUGAL. ...My late ambition hath distain'd my faith; My breach of faith occasion'd bloody wars; Those bloody wars have spent my treasure; And with my treasure my people's blood; And with their blood, my joy and best belov'd My best belov'd, my sweet and only son. O, wherefore went I not to war myself The cause was mine; I might have died for both: My years were mellow, his but young and green; My death were natural, but his was forc'd.

It's not right to say that our loss in Vietnam turned out to be a gain. But lessons were learned. And they were the right lessons.

Is the child in that old photograph really an erstwhile version of you, your little hand waving farewell? The face of that child is nothing like the face you have now. That child's face is now melding with the blackness behind you, before you, around you. The child is waving and smiling and fading as your car keeps skidding toward your abruptly curtailed future. Bye-bye.

fatal vehicular misadventure.

Cuando enterramos a los viejos, enterramos el pasado conocido, el pasado que a veces imaginamos mejor de lo que fue, pero el pasado al fin y al cabo, habitado en parte por nosotros. El recuerdo es el tema inevitable, el consuelo final. Pero cuando enterramos recién nacidos, enterramos el futuro, inmanejable y desconocido, lleno de promesas y posibilidades, de logros teñidos de esperanzas color de rosa.

Grief is the tax we pay on our attachments...

Grief is the price we pay for being close to one another. If we want to avoid our grief, we simply avoid each other.