Quotes About Loss

The angel of death has been abroad throughout the land; you may almost hear the beating of his wings.

Even for the dead I will not bind my soul to grief, death cannot long divide; for is it not as if the rose that climbed my garden wall had bloomed the other side?

What came for them? Not death. Just the end of living.

Death is a zero sum game for which there is no cure.

Once one has kissed a cadaver's forehead, there always remains something of it on the lips, an infinite bitterness, an aftertasteof nothingness that nothing can erase.

Death is dancing me ragged.

The problem with death is absence

Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death the memory be green.

Death lies on her like an untimely frost.

Toward the person who has died we adopt a special attitude: something like admiration for someone who has accomplished a very difficult task.

William Shakespeare, Hamlet

The times that were most fun seemed always to be followed by sadness now, because it was when life started to feel like it did when she was with us that we realized how utterly gone she was.

There's one thing that keeps surprising you about stormy old friends after they die - their silence.

Death has an energy. It is thick as sludge, heavy as iron, and pulls you down into yourself like an imploding building.

He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.

In me didst thou exist-and, in my death, see by this image, which is thine own, how utterly thou hast murdered thyself.

It is rather interesting how you get used to death.

Death is not the monarch for the dead, but of the dying. The moment he obtains a conquest he loses a subject.

That's the unfortunate thing about death. It's so terribly final.

My brother was a great favorite with everybody, and his death cast a gloom upon the whole neighborhood.

There were worse things than dying, and those worse things happened to the people you left behind.

Suicide leaves everyone feeling guilty.

Here is one of the worst things about having someone you love die: It happens again every single morning.

…but there they lay, sprawled across the field, craved far more by the vultures than by wives.