Quotes About Loss

Sometimes I stand among the stones and wonder. Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I weep. Sometimes nothing at all much happens. Life goes on. The dead are everywhere.

It hurts so bad that I cannot save him, protect him, keep him out of harm's way, shield him from pain. What good are fathers if not for these things?

We deal with love by dealing with the ones we love, with sickness by dealing with the sick, and with death by dealing with the dead. And

The living have to live with it. You don't. Theirs is the grief or the gladness of your death, theirs is the loss or gain of it. Theirs is the pain and the pleasure of memory.

When we bury the old, we bury the known past, the past we imagine sometimes better than it was, but the past all the same, a portion of which is inhabited. Memory is the overwhelming theme, the eventual comfort.

What we call mourning for our dead is perhaps not so much grief at not being able to call them back as it is grief at not being able to want to do so.

My lands showed like a full moon about me, but now the moon's i'the last quarter, waning, waning; and I am to think that moon was mine. Mine and my father's and my forefathers': generations, generations! Down goes the house of us, down, down it sinks. Now is the name a beggar, begs in me; that name, which hundreds of years has made this shire famous, in me and my posterity runs out.

Oh! ever thus, from childhood's hour,I've seen my fondest hope decay;I never loved a tree or flower,But 'twas the first to fade away.I never nurs'd a dear gazelleTo glad me with its soft black eye,But when it came to know me well,And love me, it was sure to die.

Oft in the stilly night,Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,Fond Memory brings the lightOf other days around me;The smiles, the tears,Of boyhood's years,The words of love then spoken;The eyes that shoneNow dimmed and gone,The cheerful hearts now broken.

Oh, breathe not his name! let it sleep in the shade,Where cold and unhonor'd his relics are laid.

And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls,Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.

I'm scared of people leaving unexpectedly. It's cos of the way I died.

Brightness falls from the air;Queens have died young and fair;Dust hath closed Helen's eye.I am sick, I must die.Lord, have mercy on us!

The more men have to lose, the less willing are they to venture.

Every man who knows anything of languages, knows that it is impossible to translate from one language into another, not only without losing a great part of the original, but frequently of mistaking the sense.

There are situations that a nation may be in, in which peace or war, abstracted from every other consideration, may be politically right or wrong. When nothing can be lost by a war, but what must be lost without it, war is then the policy of that country; and such was the situation of America at the commencement of hostilities: but when no security can be gained by a war, but what may be accomplished by a peace, the case becomes reversed.

You were not contented while you had her, and to weep for her now is childish.

he woke up one morning and realized that the conditions he had been accustomed to seeing as permanent had changed. He was no longer at the center of things. After his wife died the house had gone silent. It wasn't the hearth where the clan gathered for warmth and sustenance anymore. It was just a solitary man's place.

I came," she said, "hoping you could talk me out of a fantasy." Cherish it!" cried Hilarious, fiercely. "What else do any of you have? Hold it tightly by it's little tentacle, don't let the Freudians coax it away or the pharmacists poison it out of you. Whatever it is, hold it dear, for when you lose it you go over by that much to the others. You begin to cease to be.

Someday she might replace whatever of her had gone away by some prosthetic device, a dress of a certain color, a phrase in a letter, another lover.

The feeling came upon him one night as he lay asleep under his new Rabbit blanket with his two daughters and their mother that his Power had gone to another place; even the strength running deep in his bones fled.

But all the photograph told Heidi was that the answers, if there were any, were lost in the wanting and needing and doing. Ghostly figures, caught in a brutal flash of light, and then gone.

But it is an happy loss to lose oneself in admiration at one's own Felicity: and to find GOD in exchange for oneself: Which we then do when we see Him in His Gifts, and adore His Glory.

The shocked gloomy aftermath of death pressed a heavy hand upon the house.