Quotes About Loss

I thought, not for the first time, that maybe it would have been better if he'd just died, a thunderclap heart attack, an artery bursting in his brain, a peaceful exit in the middle of the night, in his own bed, after his favorite meal, with my mom beside him. We'd have mourned, then moved on. This was a slow-motion catastrophe, death by a thousand cuts.

lovely memory / Until eternity; / She came, she loved, and then she went away.

She was going to be an orphan soon, a woman without parents in the world. Which meant that she was the parent now; the one who had to set the example and do the right thing, even when it was the hard thing, and bear some of her burdens and hurts alone.

She wished Martin hadn't taken his Encyclopaedia Britannica with him when they split up. She missed that more than she missed him.

stillborn love notes provide small satisfaction

We like, we cherish, we are very, very fond of—but we never love again.

Sunlight is the life-blood of Nature.  Mother Earth looks at us with such dull, soulless eyes, when the sunlight has died away from out of her.  It makes us sad to be with her then; she does not seem to know us or to care for us.  She is as a widow who has lost the husband she loved, and her children touch her hand, and look up into her eyes, but gain no smile from her.

Life works upon a compensating balance, and the happiness we gain in one direction we lose in another.

Sunlight is the life-blood of Nature. Mother Earth looks at us with such dull, soulless eyes, when the sunlight has died away from out of her. It makes us sad to be with her then; she does not seem to know us or to care for us. She is as a widow who has lost the husband she loved, and her children touch her hand, and look up into her eyes, but gain no smile from her.

Slowly the golden memory of the dead sun fades from the hearts of the cold, sad clouds. Silent, like sorrowing children, the birds have ceased their song, and only the moorhen's plaintive cry and the harsh croak of the corncrake stirs the awed hush around the couch of waters, where the dying day breathes out her last.

In her diary entry of June 15, the day her husband died , Vicky (Victoria, Princess Royal of England, wife of Frederick III German Emperor) wondered, 'why does pain not kill immediately?

what about a person who has failed at the only important task ever given him, someone responsible for the deaths of ones he loves and the driving of others into the darkness?

Great Johnstown Flood, which killed more than 2,300 people, 300 of them suffering the horrible irony of dying in fires started by the water.

Of course, all of their words for a thousand years could not fill the hole left by his mother, but they could raise a loving fence around it so he didn't keep falling in.

I'm disappearing, Leo. Like Dootsie's trick, except this is real. Who are you if you lose your favorite person? Can you lose your favorite person without losing yourself? I reach for Stargirl and she's gone. I'm not me anymore.

Amanda took the torn page from Maniac. To her, it was the broken wing of a bird, a pet out in the rain.

I did leave something behind with you: my heart. Of course, you didn't know it at the time. Maybe I didn't either. What have you done with my heart, Leo? Have you taken good care of it? Have you misplaced it?

He still heard his mother's voice--Davey--rise like whisper-dust from unseen corners in the house, but it was no longer the only voice he heard. His ears were also filled with the voices of others--his father and Primrose and Refrigerator John and his grandmother. Of course, all of their words for a thousand years could not fill the hole left by his mother, but they could raise a loving fence around it so he didn't keep falling in.

The protons are dead, nothing will ever be the same

And Alvina the floor sweeper—she hates herself, and it seems she's got plenty of company. All she's losing is her childhood, her future, a worldful of people who will never be her friends. How would you like to trade places with her?

Real mothers don't die, said Ferdi. No one had an answer to that. So we talked about oranges. Like mothers, oranges were a common topic. Enos said he had eaten them many times, but Ferdi said they were only made up. What do oranges taste like? I asked Enos. He closed his eyes. Like nothing else. What do they look like? Like a little sun before it sets. Feeding said, Oranges don't exist.

The price of peace had been high: expelling himself from the gang, proclaiming himself a traitor, banishing his beloved pet. For such a price, a peace should be excellent. Yet when Palmer reached for it, tried to taste it, it was not there.

But she loves her daughter, David can tell, loves her the way David's mother loved him, and sometimes David feels that same love he used to, except now it's coming from other places, other people, and it's a good thing the love is coming because he's beginning to think there aren't enough rules in the universe to bring his mother back.

It's different to miss somebody when they're still alive. When they die it's like, 'Okay, I'm sad.' You're supposed to be sad. When they just go away, when they disappear, that's a different thing.