Quotes About Loss

When poachers target the matriarchs or older females—as they often do, because older elephants usually have larger tusks—they also destroy that lifetime of learning and knowledge. For an elephant family, the death of a matriarch must feel like losing an encyclopedia, or an entire library—and for us, the loss makes stopping the poaching even more urgent, if only to protect the experienced matriarchs, who keep their families out of harm's way.

There is love and there is sorrow, but the gain outweighs the loss, if you will make it so.

You are going to the fields strewn with corpses, How can I not feel a pang inside? Though I would swear to follow you, I am afraid that green will turn yellow

She's lost her links to her old world, but she has never felt close to the one she's in now. She's torn in different directions, at a loss.

After a certain age, we do not move on from the dead, we remain in their time, in their company.

Changer, c'est toujours perdre un bloc de soi. On le sent qui se détache, après un temps d'adaptation. C'est un deuil et un soulagement en même temps.

Once upon a time, in the days before Social Security or insurance companies, there lived a miller and his daughter, Della, who were fairly well-off and reasonably happy until the day their mill burned down.

Felicity was more romantic. She's waiting for her lover. He's a sailor and she's watching for his ship to come in. Nobody's dared tell her it's been wrecked and her lover is at the bottom of the sea. She'll go on waiting and waiting until her red hair turns as white as his bones- Good.

You know the passage where Scarlett voices her happiness that her mother is dead, so that she can't see what a bad girl Scarlett has become? Well, that's me.

I Feel Sorry for the Garden No one is thinking about the flowers No one is thinking about the fish No one wants to believe that the garden is dying that the garden's heart has swollen under the sun that the garden is slowly forgetting its green moments …

I knew I had fallen in love with Lolita forever; but I also knew she would not be forever Lolita.

The photos I took in Afghanistan are lying in front of me. I peer into the faces of those who were with me there and who are so far away from me now, into the faces of those who were dying right next to me and those who were hiding behind my back. I can make these photos larger or smaller, darker or lighter. But what I can't do is bring back those who are gone forever.

I saw houses burned by the Mujahadeen, as well as disfigured bodies of prisoners they'd taken. But I saw other things too: villages destroyed by our shelling and bodies of women, killed by mistake. When you shoot at every rustling in the bushes, there's no time to think about who's there. But for an Afghan, it didn't matter if his wife had been killed intentionally or accidentally. He went into the mountains to see revenge.

On one of his comrades depicted in the book:] "Sasha was my friend … Like me, he was 19. But he didn't come home. He was killed 12 hours after this photo was taken.

Tears are the silent language of grief

Once the people begin to reason, all is lost.

How can I tell her to be glad she's alive, when she knows she'll never walk on the desert again, or find me a diamond for some patron's earring, never gentle another horse, never make love?" "I don't know," Smoke said. "But if you and Alex see her life as a tragedy, that's what it will be.

She] had a habit of putting things in that way, as though she had accidently set your house on fire and had no choice now but to stand back and watch it burn.

I nuzzled them both to remind them that there was really no need to grieve, since I was okay and really a much better pet than Smokey ever was.

Nas?l da ölümdür müzik SevdiÄŸin ÅŸark? söylerken.

Man is in love and loves what vanishes.

My purpose, my whole life, had been to love him and be with him, to make him happy. I didn't want to cause any unhappiness now—in that way, I decided it was probably better than he wasn't here to see this, though I missed him so much at that moment the ache of it was as bad as the strange pains in my belly.

I remembered the boy crying the day they buried Smokey in the yard, and I hoped he wouldn't cry over my death. My purpose, my whole life, had been to love him and be with him, to make him happy.

All I could do now was offer him comfort, the assurance that as he left this life he was not alone but rather was tended by the dog who loved him more than anything in the whole world.