Quotes About Loss

The wisdom of age is bitter when those you have failed have gone.

We see death in the loss of sweet daughters and wives and fathers and old friends

A death is never good. It's never pleasant. We can only ignore it, until our time comes.

Genghis snorted. "Men always die in war. Their kings expect it. I want them to know that if they resist me, they are putting their hand in the mouth of a wolf. They will lose everything and they can expect no mercy.

We knew giants then, before the wine soured.

Unaware of them all, Temujin began to chant words he had not heard since old Chagatai had whispered them on a frozen night long before. The shaman's chant spoke of loss and revenge, of winter, ice, and blood. He did not have to struggle to recall the words; they were ready on his tongue as if he had always known them.

Your people will be torn from the land for this, Tartar. Your gers will burn and your herds will be scattered.

When Pelitas had died, he had wept, but there were no more tears in him for the others. He had no more lies for them, no more speeches. The grand lie had been that there was anything to fight for at all.

For a moment, he almost wished Jochi alive so he could tell him how different things were, how his world had grown larger that the small inheritance they had fought over. The horizons were wide enough for them all, he realized now, but the wisdom of age is bitter when those you have failed have gone.

It's going to be like this from now on...The longer we live, the more of our friends we'll lose.

Authentic grief is humbling; it causes the ego to face forces that are much greater than it can even imagine and it teaches us how to find gain in loss. With authentic grief, then, our profane wound becomes a sacred wound, permitting us to molt out of the cocoon into a wholly new life. Going through the wound like a gateway, we emerge transformed

Music I heard with you was more than music,And bread I broke with you was more than bread.Now that I am without you, all is desolate;All that was once so beautiful is dead.

So, talking with my first wife, At the dark end of evening, when she leaned And smiled at me, with blue eyes weaving webs Of finest fire, revolving me in scarlet,-- Calling to mind remote and small successions Of countless other evenings ending so,-- I smiled, and met her kiss, and wished her dead

Dad, wherever you are, you are gone but you will never be forgotten.

To see the death as our own, that is the beginning of wisdom. To find the loss as our own, that is the beginning of respect for others. To feel the pain as our own, that is the beginning of kindness.

Where have you gone, O noble lords of the plain? Time has erased your footprints with the passing seasons' rain. Your voices have now been silenced to no longer echo in the hills. The battles are but memories when you watched your lifeblood spill. It is we who are the losers; it is we who bear the shame. O mighty Blackfoot warrior, only your legend remains the same. Constance O'Banyon

Desires Like the beautiful bodies of those who died young, tearfully interred in a grand mausoleum with roses by their heads and jasmine at their feet – so seem those desires that have passed without fulfilment; without a single night of pleasure, or one of its radiant mornings.

Desires" Like beautiful bodies of the dead who had not grown old and they shut them, with tears, in a magnificent mausoleum, with roses at the head and jasmine at the feet — that is how desires look that have passed without fulfillment; without one of them having achieved a night of sensual delight, or a moonlit morn.

When the lambs is lost in the mountain, he said. They is cry. Sometime come the mother. Sometime the wolf.

In the life of every believer, there is conformity to Christ's suffering, a participation in Christ that inevitably includes the elements of self-denial, shame, and loss.

He looked up at the heavy smoke palls over the city and repeated softly to himself, "It's all for nothing. All for nothing."*

You his brother?' 'Yes, damn it!' I burst out. "And all I want is to get my hands on whoever did this to him!' 'Funny,' said a dick dryly, 'but so do we.' I didn't like him much after that. Sarcasm is out of place when a man has just been brought face to face with personal tragedy. ("Walls That Hear You")

I got another chestful of air in, tore loose with it. 'Somebody help me! You people standing around looking, isn't there one of you will help me? I brought my wife here last night; now she's gone and they're trying to tell me I never -' ("All At Once, No Alice")

No desolation equal to that of the pagan, suddenly bereft. For to the pagan, there is no hereafter.