Quotes About Loss

Se antoja pensar que el hombre decidió voluntariamente perder el "Paraíso" de la Unidad inconsciente con la Lattice para ganar el Paraíso de la Unidad Consciente con la misma Lattice. En esta pérdida y ganancia Dios actuó como cómplice por su "deseo" de ser acompañado por alguien de su misma osadía y altura.  El éxito en esta "aventura magistral" está todavía por verse.

It's like you miss a year of your life,

Death is sometimes so discreet that it steals in noiselessly, stays for only a moment and carries off its prey...

I only know the stony plain, wandering, and the gradual loss of hope. I am the sterile offspring of a race about which I know nothing, not even whether it has become extinct. Perhaps, somewhere humanity is flourishing under the stars, unaware that a daughter of its blood is ending her days in silence. There is nothing we can do about it.

After the first death there is no other.' - Elizabeth Barrett Browning The first death changes everything, and all deaths afterward bring us back to the first death.

After the first death there is no other.' Do you know who wrote that?

The first death changes everything, and all deaths afterward bring us back to the first death.

After the first death there is no other.' Do

She told him about tossing Bob's ashes in the deep fryer at the local restaurant. She stopped and asked him if he had ever in all his years as a minister ever heard of anyone doing that

each time it would hurt less, and afterward she would love Lyon less, until one day there would be nothing left Ã¢â'¬â€ no hurt, and no love. She

I'll tell you this. Leaving that which you love breaks your heart open. But you will find a jewel inside, and this precious jewel is the opening of your heart to all that is new and all that is different, and it will be the making of you-if you allow it to be.

Though there had yet to be a victor in this great war that had begun almost three years ago, Maurice had written to her that they had, all of them, on all sides, lost their freedom. Freedom to think hopefully of the future.

Maybe this was our last summer as best friends. I feel like something's going to change now and I'm not going to be able to change it back. —Margaret

There was a time when I believed there was loss that could not be defined, that language had not caught up to death's enormity.

Everyone else has gone away. And now coming back home isn't really coming back home at all.

Some days I just think the whole world and life and everything is stupid. And that's 'cause I be missing you.

I was eleven, the idea of two identical digits in my age still new and spectacular and heartbreaking. The girls must have felt this. They must have known. Where had ten, nine, eight, and seven gone?

Orba (feminine), the Latin word for orphaned, parentless, childless, widowed. There was a time when I believed there was loss that could not be defined, that language had not caught up to death's enormity. But it has. Orbus, orba, orbum, orbi, orbae, orborum, orbo, orbis...

It seemed like someone was always leaving someone, like that's the way the world worked—people were born and people died, people left and people came. It was like the world was saying you can't have everything you want at the same time.

Tragedy is strange. It takes away. And it gives too" -Haley

Before, you used to hear the word immigration and it sounded like everything you ever believed in. It sounded like feliz cumpleaños and merry Christmas and welcome home . But now you hear it and you get scared because it sounds like a word that makes you want to disappear. It sounds like someone getting stolen away from you.

Everyone else has gone away. And now coming back home isn't really coming back home at all.

But now I knew there were so many ways to get hung from a cross—a mother's love for you morphing into something incomprehensible. A dress ghosted in another generation's dreams. A history of fire and ash and loss. Legacy.

I held on to my mama's Spelman College sweater. Wore it the first day I got there myself and still have it now. Held on to my own daddy's stethoscope until I pulled it out of its black leather case one winter and saw the rubber had melted into sticky pieces of nothing and the silver disk was flaked with rust. Seems all I had from them was the memories of fire and smoke.