Quotes About Loss

Some people aren't meant to stay in your life. But, that doesn't mean you can't carry a piece of them in your heart.

Truthfully, she was the best thing in his life and he was a complete idiot if he let her walk away from him.

Apparently some things, like Cheetos finger stains and the searing pain of grief, couldn't be fixed.

He remembered kissing her… falling for her. Then how she'd left the mountain without looking back, forgetting about him with shocking, heartbreaking ease. Now she was back. And she'd kissed him like maybe she hadn't forgotten him after all...

Granted, he'd been royally messed up at that time. Years ago, Jason had died of a rare and misdiagnosed heart condition. His family had fallen apart, and James had . . . lost himself. So much so that he'd asked Hannah to walk away from her life and go explore the planet with him. She'd declined and ghosted him.

Regardless of the cause of depression, one factor remains constant: depression always centers on death and pain.

Changing directions in life is not tragic. Losing passion in life is.

Wait. You don't understand. I just wanted it to stop. Wanted the hurting to stop. I smoothed a bloodied lock of hair from her eyes and felt very tired as I said, The only people who never hurt are dead. The light died out of her eyes, her breath slowing. She whispered, barely audible, I don't understand. I answered, I don't either. A tear slid from her eye and mixed with the blood. Then she died.

Last year in the U.S. alone more than nine hundred thousand people were reported missing and not found... That's out of three hundred million, total population. That breaks down to about one person in three hundred and twenty-five vanishing. Every year.... Maybe it's a coincidence, but it's almost the same loss ratio experienced by herd animals on the African savannah to large predators.

Living was a dangerous past-time, and often quite painful—but there was also such joy in living, such beauty, things that one would otherwise never see, never experience, never know. The risk of pain and loss was a part of living.

Monsters are born of pain, and grief, and loss, and anger. Your heart is full of them.- -And? And it makes you vulnerable.

You killed my dog! Get your affairs in order.

Life is precious, fragile, fleeting - and Murphy's life was one of my favorites.

The dead don't need justice. That's for those of us who are left looking down at the remains.

The words first. Damned near everything begins with words. I am, I breathed, and suddenly the ice was clear of my mouth. I am Harry... I panted, and the pain redoubled. And I laughed. As if some freak who never loved enough to know loss could tell me about pain.

Living was a dangerous past-time, and often quite painful—but there was also such joy in living, such beauty, things that one would otherwise never see, never experience, never know. The risk of pain and loss was a part of living. It made everything else mean more; beauty was more pure, more bright, pleasure more full and complete, laughter deeper, more satisfying—and contentment more perfect, more peaceful.

Love you. That should have been simple enough to say. But the words stuck hard in my throat. I'd never said them to anyone I didn't lose

It's a shadelight, Grimm said quietly. Some of my men put one up whenever I lose a member of the crew. To light his shade's way back to his bunk, so he can rest. A bit heathen of them, I suppose, Benedict said. It's a tradition, Grimm said. Were traditions rational, they'd be procedures.

I knew what it was like to have holes in my life in the shape of people who should have been there.

Your death doesn't belong to me. We flipped a coin. I lost.

He died in his sleep one night. An aneurysm, the doctors said. I found him, cold, smiling. Maybe he'd been dreaming of Mother when he went. And as I looked at him, I suddenly felt, for the very first time in my life, utterly, entirely alone. That something was gone that would never return, that a little hole had been hollowed out inside of me that wasn't ever going to be filled again.

He'd died a hero. It seemed so empty to me, at that moment. Meaningless to be a hero.

Sometimes, Hoss," he said very gently, "you lose. Sometimes the darkness takes everyone. Sometimes the monster escapes to kill again another day." He shook his head and looked down. "Sometimes, Hoss, the innocent little ones are murdered. And there's not one goddamned thing you can do about it.

Graves aren't for the dead. They're for the loved ones the dead leave behind them. Once those loved ones have gone, once all the lives that have touched the occupant of any given grave had ended, then the grave's purpose was fulfilled and ended.