Quotes About Loss

It felt like another loss. Each time he thought he was doing well, avoiding the hope. Each time he told himself: I have no expectations, but with each new failure it hurt so much he understood the hope had been there after all, flitting seductively around his subconscious. It didn't get easier either. It got worse. A cumulative effect. Loss upon loss.

This type of thing was always happening to John-Paul. Last time he went overseas he'd left his laptop in a cab. The man lost things constantly. Wallets, phones, keys, his wedding ring. His possessions just slid right off him.

you have children you think your life has changed forever, and it's true, to an extent, but it's nothing compared to how your life changes after you lose a child.

Finally, little by little, the vise around her chest loosened its grip enough for her to breathe again. It never went away completely. She'd accepted that a long time ago. She'd die with the clamp of grief still wrapped around her chest. She didn't want it to go away. That would be like Janie had never existed.

I'm an orphan now, thought Charlotte. No matter how old you are, when your parents are gone, you are alone - an orphan.

We may rightly shrink from saying that any given individual is certainly so unfaithful to light and grace as to incur the eternal loss of God, we do know that many are so. God knows who they are.

But no one came. My father was safe, and his family was together in a free land. We'd left virtually everything we had behind—our home, furniture, clothes, and possessions. Our lifelong friends, too. We'd left behind the fields we'd lovingly tilled, the fig and cherry trees that I cherished, and the farm animals that were once so important to us. My father had nothing to show for the business that he'd worked so hard to establish and grow.

Suicide is the dumbest possible way of getting revenge. Why is that? Because the people you want to strike back at are the very same folks who won't even remember you a week after you're gone, while the people you want to spare most -- the people who love you -- are the ones who will have to live with the pain of your suicide for the rest of their lives.

When them Niggas Left Eye[I] It Got A Lil Bit Chilli[TLC], But I Just Let It Burn[Usher] Like The End Of A Philly.

I dont want a broken heart; cause Ill lose all the pieces.

I was always holding onto people, and they were always leaving.

Arthur … And now it was all in ruins

Hi. I'm Dru Anderson. My father went way-out wack after my mom died and now he travels around hunting things that go bump in the night, killing things you can only find in fairytales and ghost stories. I help him out when I can, but most of the time I'm deadweight, even though I can tell you where anything inhuman in this town is likely to hang out. I'm skipping school because I won't be here in another three months. None of it goddamn well matters.

Maybe handling her memory every day for five years had made it fade, like the mortal thing it was.

Hadn't he spoken to the trees? Of course, the entire trailer park and its surroundings might be razed to make way for something even mortal-uglier, the living earth sleeping fitfully under concrete. He might well decide it wasn't worth the effort, or the heartbreak when such careful work was undone.

No matter how much time goes by, missing someone never gets any better. You just learn to work around it.

Co?my utracili? Nie wszystko przepad?o; niepodbita wola, studium zemsty, nigdy nie umieraj?ca nienawi??..." "I odwaga, która nigdy si? przed niczym nie ugina ani nie poddaje" - doko?czy?.

Grief, I began to see, is gratitude turned inside out.

Sometimes you just find a culture that breaks your heart," she said finally.

I wanted her and no one else to tell me the story of how she died.

It was so awful and weird. I could see all the things I had loved about him, I could see them, but I didn't love them anymore.

When you die, she thought now, you can no longer give love. You can't give love anymore. She wouldn't be able to love her children. It struck her suddenly as the very worst thing about death, worse than not being able to breathe or laugh or kiss. A kind of existential suffocation, to not be able to give her children her love anymore.

The air between us crackles, as it does when you speak of your beloved dead. But it's hard to know what to say next.

Adults hid their pain, their fears, their failure, but adolescents hid their happiness, as if to reveal it would risk its loss.