Quotes About Loss

Hiccup the Second was gone forever, separated from the Dragon by an ocean of sky and time, and he could not come back to visit. But still, somehow, a tiny part of him was here, in the raggedy, awkward shape of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. And the Dragon Furious loved him.

Slowly, Gobber stood up. Carefully, he removed his helmet from his head, and placed it very gently on the chest of the dead Goliath.

She ponders the transmigrations from southern latitudes. the millions moving north. What happens to their languages? The warm burial grounds they leave behind? What of their passions lying stiff and untranslated in their breasts?

You can come back one day. Or I could come there. Maybe. I could find you. Finding is for the things that are lost. You don't need to find me, Mayor.

And then again, maybe people and things are the same as emotions: Even when you can't see them or feel them or be with them, and even when they have died and even before they are born, they still exist somewhere. Far away or close, they're always somewhere. Maybe nothing in the world is truly lost, I think.

I understood how easily and how quickly things could be snatched away.

Finding is for things that are lost. You don't need to find me, Mayor.

I'd think, One of the times she leaves will be the last time I see her. It destroyed me. I didn't want us to have a last time, and that was how I realized I'd fallen in love with you.

I knew all this, I understood the rules, but still, nothing broke my heart like the slow death of a shared joke that had once seemed genuinely funny.

When Jeff Greene was in second grade, seven and a half years old, he got home from school one Tuesday afternoon in early March, and found a note from his mother, saying that she had gone away and would not be coming back.

They wouldn't know that grief had come down up on him unbearably, and he must be alone to put his arms around her, and feel her arms around him, to take enough comfort from grieving so that he could return to finish the business of the day.

But on this night, for this Volkking's death, when the Death Maiden no longer cried out, and the beating hands had tired, and throats were too raw to howl again, and silence flowed like night out of the low doorway of the Death House, flames erupted --

When along the pavement, Palpitating flames of life, People flicker around me, I forget my bereavement, The gap in the great constellation, The place where a star used to be

There is nothing to save, now all is lost, but a tiny core of stillness in the heart like the eye of a violet.

He felt he had lost it for good, he knew what it was to have been in communication with her, and to be cast off again. In misery, his heart like a heavy stone, he went about unliving.

She lost her illusions in the collapse of her sympathies.

Make him stop drinking'. He prayed every night. 'Lord, let my father die', he prayed very often. 'Let him not be killed at pit', he prayed when, after tea, the father did not come home from work.

But he had been so much hurt that something inside him had perished, some of his feelings had gone. There was a blank of insentience.

Piecemeal the body dies, and the timid soul has her footing washed away, as the dark flood rises.

She saw the sunshine going out of him, and she resented it.

everywhere for it. And, as she sought, the conviction came into her heart that her husband had taken it. What she had in her purse was all the money

And then, he was not there. A terrible storm came over her, as if she were drowning. She was possessed by a devastating hopelessness. And she approached mechanically to the altar. Never had she known such a pang of utter and final hopelessness. It was beyond death, so utterly null, desert.

All the great words, it seemed to Connie, were cancelled for her generation: love, joy, happiness, home, mother, father, husband, all these great, dynamic words were half dead now, and dying from day to day.

Almost with bitterness he watched her go. She had connected him up again, when he had wanted to be alone. She had cost him that bitter privacy of a man who at last wants only to be alone.