Quotes About Loss

The world has changed. I see it in the water. I feel it in the Earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost, For none now live who remember it.

What is good is always being destroyed

Caro bambino, mi viene da scrivere. Ma forse no, caro giovanotto. Sei morto così giovane. [...] Sinceramente preferisco pensarti bambino, prima del tradimento, dell'odio e dell'assassinio. Preferisco pensarti taciturno e gentile, in quella capanna riscaldata dal fiato della mucca e dell'asino, per niente disturbato dalla povertà del tuo giaciglio di paglia, fra ranocchini che saltano, il rumore della pioggia sul tetto abbozzato alla meglio da tuo padre e le gonne sudice di tua madre.

Is it not an aberration of the memory to love only what it has lost? Just why do we lose these things, only to languish with nostalgia for the same places and the same people that earlier bored us to extinction? Is not all this predictable, vulgar folly?

To leave a book is like leaving the better part of oneself. To pass from the soft and airy arcades of the mind to the demands of a graceless body always grasping for one thing or another is in any case a surrender:

I wanted," she counts on her fingers, performing the sitcom of her tragedy, "Tribeca loft, expense account, designer clothes so haute they don't look it, my very own Tesla, summer home in the Hamptons I'm too busy to use." "You wanted money," says Justin. Brianna: "It went down with the towers.

I'm still staring at that irritating NVA flag flapping in a wet breeze that blows over the river when the lull ends as it usually does in Hue. People resume dying.

E se me apaixonar perdidamente por ele, e mesmo assim ele vá embora daqui?) Nesse caso, você vai recolher os seus cacos, juntá-los novamente e prosseguir com sua vida. Mas, pelo menos , pode saber saber como é amar alguém de verdade.

Bill Harper was a lucky guy. Bill Harper had got Diane and then he had been killed.

You're dead mister and you died for nothing. You're dead mister. Dead.

He could almost hear the wail of pain that went up from his heart. It was a sharp terrible personal pain the kind of pain that comes only when someone to whom you have never done any harm turns on you and says goodbye goodbye forever without any reason for doing it. Without any reason at all.

Come back Kareen you'll choke you'll fill up like I'm filling up. You'll go down Kareen watch out please watch out. Come back Kareen. You're gone. You weren't even there.

They died crying in their minds like little babies. They forgot the thing they were fighting for the thing they were dying for. They thought about things a man can understand. They died yearning for the face of a friend. They died whimpering for the voice of a mother a father a wife a child. They died with their hearts sick for one more look at the place where they were born please god just one more look.

How does a bird feel when it dies? A fish, a bug...the infinite worm? I think it weeps.

Four maybe five million men killed and none of them wanting to die while hundreds maybe thousands were left crazy or blind or crippled and couldn't die no matter how hard they tried.

An equation: 40,000 dead young men = 3,000 tons of bone and flesh, 124,000 pounds of brain matter, 50,000 gallons of blood, 1,840,000 years of life that will never be lived, 100,000 children that will never be born (the last we can afford: there are too many starving children in the world already).

He looked down at a tired face that was only fifty-one years old. He looked down and thought dad I feel lots older than you. I was sorry for you dad. Things weren't going well and they never would have gone well for you and it's just as good you're dead. People've got to be quicker and harder these days than you were dad. Goodnight and good-dreams. I won't forget you and I'm not as sorry for you today as I was yesterday. I loved you dad goodnight.

For a split second, I realize completely and absolutely that the season of winter is sentient, that there is an intelligence behind it. There's a tremendous amount of emotional pain that comes with the magick of winter, but I still mourn when the season ends, like I'm losing my best friend.

The shorter story; No love, no glory; No hero in her skies.

You know when you've found it that's something I've learned, cause you feel it when they take it away.

Something in him has changed, he can't seem to connect properly with the world. He feels this not as a failure of the world but as a massive failing in himself, he would like to change it but doesn't know how. In his clearest moments he thinks that he has lost the ability to love, people or places or things, most of all the person and place and thing that he is. Without love nothing has value, nothing can be made to matter very much.

Aleuton sat back and sighed. 'Eight days ago. They're getting hammered. Twenty-two engines, that's all Macaroth allowed us to keep here as a standing defence. The enemy has at least seven times that power.' He reached over and picked up a sheaf of black-edged papers. 'You see these? Death notices. Eight of them. Eight engines dead. What does that tell you?

I will miss the glory of this day,' said Sepatus sadly. Sanguinius placed a hand on his shoulder. 'Glory, Bel,' he said, 'awaits you wherever you walk.

In every story, in every life, there are moments of death that take away our name and rename us as strangers, orphans or widows. At the moment of being unnamed, we are thrown into our story. We lose the name Friend and are given the name Reject.