Quotes About Loss

When we love someone, we're held hostage by fate, because if we lose that person, then we, too, are lost.

Life is a train ride, and at the many stations along the route, people important to us debark, never to get aboard again, until by the end of the journey, we sit in a passenger car where most of the seats are empty.

Here lie your hopes and dreams, shattered and swept aside...

There are silences and silences. No one of them is like another. There is the silence of grief in velvet-draped rooms of a plushly carpeted funeral parlor which is far different from the bleak and terrible silence of grief in a widower's lonely bedroom.

Grief is a healthy emotion, and it's healthy to embrace it. By accepting loss, we clarify our values and the meaning of our lives.

The terrible pain of loss teaches humility to our prideful kind, has the power to soften uncaring hearts, to make a better person of a good one.

Sometimes it seems that to exit this world, they must go through my heart, leaving me scarred and sore.

Dogs' lives are short, but you know that going in. You know the pain is coming, you're going to lose a dog, and there's going to be great anguish, so you live fully in the moment with her, never fail to share her joy or delight in her innocence, because you can't support the illusion that a dog can be your lifelong companion.

Some of us give up on life with only a resigned sigh. Others fight a little, then lose hope. Still others—and I am one of those—never give up. We fight and fight and fight. We fight no matter the cost of battle, the losses we take, the improbability of success. We fight to the very end. It's not a question of courage. It's something constitutional, an inability to let go. It may be nothing more than life-hungry stupidity.

Oncoming death is terrible enough, but worse still is oncoming death with time to spare, time in which all the happiness that was yours and all the happiness that might have been yours becomes clear to you. You see with utter lucidity all that you are losing. The sight brings on an oppressive sadness that no car about to hit you or water about to drown you can match. The feeling is truly unbearable.

Richard Parker has stayed with me. I've never forgotten him. Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart. I still cannot understand how he could abandon me so unceremoniously, without any sort of goodbye, without looking back even once. That pain is like an axe that chops at my heart.

To lose your mother, well, that is like losing the sun above you. It is like losing—I'm sorry, I would rather not go on.

To lose a brother is to lose someone with whom you can share the experience of growing old, who is supposed to bring you a sister-in-law and nieces and nephews, creatures to people the tree of your life and give it new branches. To lose your father is to lose the one whose guidance and help you seek, who supports you like a tree trunk supports its branches. To lose your mother, well, that is like losing the sun above you. It is like losing—I'm sorry, I would rather not go on.

When the final moment came, signalled to him by the dramatic stoppage of her loud, rasping breathing (whereas their son had departed so quietly, like the petals of a flower falling off), he felt like a sheet of ice being rushed along a river.

We've already been killed, all of us. It happened so long ago, we've forgotten it.

On peut tout te prendre; tes biens, tes plus belles années, l'ensemble de tes joies, et l'ensemble de tes mérites, jusqu'à ta dernière chemise. Il te restera toujours tes rêves pour réinventer le monde que l'on t'a confisqué...

Omul care las? s?-i scape dragostea vie?ii sale va ajunge singur cu regretele sale ?i toate suspinele lumii nu-i pot aduce alinare sufletului.

Día tras día el mundo me ha empequeñecido y hoy es el mundo el que se empequeñece en mí. Así es. La muerte triunfa poco a poco. Nos vamos acostumbrando. Nos vamos acostumbrando a la muerte.

He could not call up the faces of his own mother and father, who had died three or four years before. He would look at a picture, and there they would be. Perhaps people were progressively harder to paint in the mind as they near one, loved by one. Perhaps clear memories came easily in proportion as they were ugly.

What seemed strangest to me when I found this diary was that I have no recollection of the day-to-day life it describes. If I do not recall them, where have those days gone? Where had they vanished to? I pondered the things that human beings lose to the past -from Diary of My Sixteenth Year

Stop. I don't like it. I don't like having people die.

For such a tiny death, the empty eight-mat room seemed enormous.

When you're held by the dead, you begin to feel that you aren't in this world yourself.

Su angustia no era común a todas las mujeres en el acto de la entrega. Y con ella ocurrió solamente en aquella única vez. El hilo de plata estaba cortado, la taza de oro destruida.