Quotes About Loss

And her eyes filled with heavy, regretful tears, yet she did not quite know for what she was weeping. She only knew that some great sense of loss, some great sense of incompleteness possessed her, and she let the tears trickle down her face, wiping them off one by one with her finger.

Sixtina Tú mi vida, esta noche me has borrado del corazón y hasta del pensamiento, y tal vez, sin saberlo, me has negado dándome por perdido ya en el viento. Más luego, vida, vi cómo llorabas, entre mis brazos y que me besabas.

He was suffering from the loss of an illusion.

When Victoria told me how intensely she hated me, I kept the Beretta aimed at her face, but heard myself say, I don't hate you. She called me an effing liar and said, Hate makes the world go around. Envy, lust and hate. I stopped hating anyone the day when I realized hating can't restore to me anything that's lost.

A part of me knew... from the moment I saw her; her death would have been one wound too many that day.

All death matters. Only to the living.

Such grief might be to them quite delicious, a delicacy.

The less I have, the less I can lose.

Life is finding people you love and then losing them, sometimes after sixty years, sometimes after a few months or even a week, all the loss meant to keep you humble and remind you that your life is likewise stamped with an expiration date, so that you'll use your days to the best of your ability, in the service of what is good.

Sometimes the heart makes decisions the mind cannot, and though we know that the heart is deceitful above all things, we know that at rare moments of stress and profound loss it can be purged pure by suffering.

We must know the pain of loss; because if we never knew it, we would have no compassion for others, and we would become monsters of self-regard, creatures of unalloyed self interest.

In all our lives, however, there are many days when we die a little, when we are wounded by loss or failure, or by fear, or by seeing the suffering of others for whom we are able to offer only pity, for whom we are powerless to offer aid, who are beyond mercy.

Maybe from now on the bittersweet memory of a child lost would be only the sweet memory of a child loved. And maybe, henceforth, it would not be a memory so heavy that it oppressed the heart.

Always as lovely as any woman in any magazine, as any TV star of whom millions were enamored, she had lately looked thin and drawn. Even the evident weariness and the crescents of darkness like fading bruises around her eyes did not detract from her appearance. In fact, they suggested that she was tenderhearted and haunted by some terrible loss, that her pain, like the pain endured by a martyr, was beautiful, which then made her face yet more beautiful than it had been before.

Well," he said, "you can either do the wrong thing and let a loss like that destroy you, or you can do the right thing and be properly grateful for all that came before the loss. Grief should drive you to your knees, but if you stay there forever, you're saying you know better than God how the world should work. And you don't.

our Janice is gone, but you're still here, and your first allegiance should never be to the dead.

Every failure hollows out my heart a little further, and no success is able to refill any of that emptiness.

Once you have had a wonderful dog, a life without one is a life diminished.

The cataract of grief is a longer drop than Niagara, and I guess I've not reached the river of acceptance at the bottom.

Her grief was now doubled by his grief. She wondered how many heartbreaks a child so young could endure.

At his passing, there was not even an eddy in the snow, neither the briefest glimpse of the occluded moon nor the faintest stirring through the trees. In this regard, her death, when sooner or later it came, would be like his: the world indifferent, turning smoothly onward toward the fascination of another dawn.

In all our lives, however, there are many days when we die a little, when we are wounded by loss or failure, or by fear, or by seeing the suffering of others for whom we are able to offer only pity, for whom we are powerless to offer aid, we are beyond mercy.

After you have suffered great losses and know much pain, it is not cowardice to wish to live henceforth with a minimum of suffering. And one form of heroism, about which few if any films will be made, is having the courage to live without bitterness when bitterness is justified, having the strength to persevere even when perseverance seems unlikely to be rewarded, having the resolution to find profound meaning in life when it seems the most meaningless.

Before she risked getting a dog, she also had to find out how she would deal with the loss of Snowball when he died. If losing a mouse wrecked her, then a dog's death would absolutely destroy her, no doubt about it, none at all.