Quotes About Loss

Farewell Piorewiczowna, unasked for shadow I don't even remember your first name.

You still miss her?" "Yes, I still miss her frightfully. It's two years since she died, but I haven't got used to doing without her. I still keep on wanting to tell her things." "I know the feeling," said Louise. "I miss Mummy like that. It comes and goes. Sometimes I forget about it—and then the tide rises and I'm almost drowned. It happens quite suddenly—I never know when it's going to happen.

Death is not the saddest way to lose somebody you love.

It is a terrible thing to be angry with the dead.

War is horrible," I said, trying to damp her down. "If you had lived through the war you wouldn't think it glorious. War is just agony. It's living under a dark cloud all the time and wondering if someone you love has been killed.

There is a little silence which I dare not break, and then my hostess continues, more as if she were speaking to herself than to me, 'It's a queer thing how your life can fall to pieces about your head in a few minutes. It happened to me like that – at one moment I was a happy wife, loved and cosseted, without a care in the world, and five minutes later I was – alone

was a good mother to her three children, but there was no vitality in her. She died — if not of a broken heart, of a bruised one — when her youngest child, a daughter, was eight years old.

People who have suffered a great deal of unhappiness through death or loneliness are often beset by the fear of losing their dear ones.

I missed Elsie dreadfully," she said, "I missed her all the more because I lost her completely—more completely than if she had died. We had always written to each other and told each other everything but after she was married and went to Germany her letters were quite different—I felt she wasn't Elsie any more. Otto always called her Elsa—well of course that was a very small thing but I didn't like it.

As she went about her tasks — writing letters, answering telephone calls and putting the house in order — Nell reflected that the war had killed her father just as surely as if he had been shot through the heart by a German bullet. It seemed odd that he, who had stayed at home in peaceful Amberwell, should be the first casualty in the Ayrton family.

The moment. I think back on it. A lot. It's like revisiting a favorite place. A place you wish you could go to again. But I can't because that place doesn't exist anymore, except in my memory.

Saint Dane was right. Hope is a fragile thing. It's easy to lose, but it's possible to get it back. And I got it back.

My grandma was really sick when I was working on 'Sin Nombre' and eventually died that summer when we were finishing the film. But I was able to bring an unfinished version of the film for her to watch.

I lost the life that I knew, and I really had to rethink my future and think about my core values and the things that I love, and my passion, and that's really what helped me move forward. Also, for me just being grateful for what I had in my life versus on focusing on what I was losing, that really helped as well.

When we adopt a dog or any pet, we know it is going to end with us having to say goodbye, but we still do it. And we do it for a very good reason: They bring so much joy and optimism and happiness. They attack every moment of every day with that attitude.

Losing is hard on all of us regardless of rookie or veteran.

When you've opened your heart to a child as you have to, there's always the fear that you may discover that the child is not viable. Losing that child is not a position you want to find yourself in.

I definitely think New York is a very, very vibrant, wonderful city, but I certainly, of course, can't help but miss a lot of the stuff that's no longer there.

I was 9 years old when my father - a strong, vibrant man in his early 40s - died of a heart attack. He was such a central figure in our lives that losing him was a terrible shock to all of us, my mother in particular.

Some loves are like a vice that has ceased to give pleasure.

I'm not great at dealing with death, I have to say. I find death very hard: my mum, my dad, Sid Vicious. I'm not a monster; I feel it and it scares me. One death at a time, please, is all my heart will bear.

It's easy to dismiss terrorism and point to its rarity, until someone you know and love becomes a victim of it.

I dislike the word 'victim.' I dislike being told that I 'lost' my husband - as if I had idly abandoned you by the side of the railway track like an unwanted pair of old shoes.

Isaac Cline was a creature of his times. He embodied the hubris of his times and, in many ways, was a victim of the storm, not just in material ways - loss of a family member and damage to the town - but also in metaphoric terms.