Quotes About Loss

He was softly breathing his life away, the dark blood flowing down his skin of snow and his eyes growing heavy and dim. She kissed him, but Adonis knew not that she kissed him as he died.

You die, O thrice desired, And my desire has flown like a dream. Gone with you is the girdle of my beauty, But I myself must live who am a goddess And may not follow you. Kiss me yet once again, the last, long kiss, Until I draw your soul within my lips And drink down all your love.

Still falls the Rain - Dark as the world of man, black as our loss - Blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails Upon the Cross

though she had not had the strength to shake off the spell that bound her to him she had lost all spontaneity of feeling, and seemed to herself to be passively awaiting a fate she could not avert.

She had taken everything else from him, and now she meant to take the one thing that made up for it all.

It seems cruel, she said, that after a while nothing matters... any more than these little things that used to be necessary and important to forgotten people, and now have to be guessed at under a magnifying glass and labelled: 'Use unknown.' Yes, but meanwhile - Ah, meanwhile -

It was too late for happiness - but not too late to be helped by the thought of what I had missed. That is all I haved lived on - don't take it from me now

A frivolous society can acquire dramatic significance only through what its frivolity destroys.

When two people part who have loved each other it is as if what happens between them befell in a great emptiness - as if the tearing asunder of the flesh must turn at last into a disembodied anguish.

Something in truth lay dead between them—the love she had killed in him and could no longer call to life. But something lived between them also, and leaped up in her like an imperishable flame: it was the love his love had kindled, the passion of her soul for his.

What's the use—when you will go back?" he broke out, a great hopeless How on earth can I keep you? crying out to her beneath his words.

Lily smiled at her classification of her friends. How different they had seemed to her a few hours ago! Then they had symbolized what she was gaining, now they stood for what she was giving up. That very afternoon they had seemed full of brilliant qualities: now she saw that they were merely dull in a loud way. Under the glitter of their opportunities she saw the poverty of their achievement.

But I've caught it already. I am dead — I've been dead for months and months.

His father's death, and the misfortunes following it, had put a premature end to Ethan's studies; but though they had not gone far enough to be of much practical use they had fed his fancy and made him aware of huge cloudy meanings behind the daily face of things.

Uma coisa ele sabia que tinha perdido: a flor da vida. Mas pensava nela como uma coisa tão inantingível e improvável que lamentar-se seria como desesperar porque não se ganhou o primeiro prémio da lotaria. Havia cem milhões de bilhetes na sua lotaria e só um prémio. As chances foram todas definitivamente contra ele.

she hated the thought of it as one more instance of the perverseness with which things she was entitled to always came to her as if they had been stolen.

Polish Count must have robbed her of her fortune as well as of her illusions.

It seems cruel,' she said, 'that after a while nothing matters… any more than these little things, that used to be necessary and important to forgotten people, and now have to be guessed at under a magnifying glass and labeled: 'Use unknown.

The longed-for ships come empty home, founder on the deep And eyes first lose their tears and then their sleep.

A state without the means of some change is without the means of its conservation. Without such means it might even risk the loss of that part of the constitution which it wished the most religiously to preserve.

When ancient opinions and rules of life are taken away, the loss cannot possibly be estimated. From that moment we have no compass to govern us; nor can we know distinctly to what port we steer.

They that haue much, feare much to loose thereby, And store of cares doth follow riches store.

O what auailes it of immortall seed To beene ybred and neuer borne to die? Farre better I it deeme to die with speed, Then waste in woe and wailefull miserie. Who dyes the vtmost dolour doth abye, But who that liues, is left to waile his losse: So life is losse, and death felicitie. Sad life worse then glad death: and greater crosse To see friends graue, then dead the graue selfe to engrosse.

Was I grieving because he didn't possess everything, absolutely everything, or because I owned nothing?