Quotes About Loss

Get rid of my tomorrow. Return my yesterday and leave us alone together. After you nothing leaves and nothing returns.

we are seized by the urge to weep For one who died for nothing.

You know, no one ever appreciates you until you're gone.

You do not win a war by dying for your country. You win a war by making sure that some poor bastard dies for his.

So? You think people stop talking to you when they are dead?

I'm so angry,' she said. 'I was all right until you came back. I'd given up. So many terrible things. Relatives, neighbors disappearing. Opa. The bloody Germans coming to...to strip us bare. Oma's silence. Bam, bam, bam. Like being punched over and over again. You get numb. It doesn't hurt anymore. Unless you start to hope. That's the trick, you see: you can take anything unless you start to hope.

If you weren't here and Oma died, I'd deal with it. Because there'd be nothing more to lose. It'd be just me. But now it's different; it's worse. Because you're yet another person to lose. You do stupid, dangerous things, and every time you go away, I pray in agony that you'll come back. It's unfair. Hope is pulling me to pieces. I can't stand it.

Ya nunca será lo mismo para ti. Nunca volverás a ver con ojos inocentes o sin ambivalencia en la mente, como antes de este momento. Una parte de ti está ahora consagrada a todo lo que excluye ese simple gozo y exultación. Bienaventurado has sido de poseerlo durante un breve período...»

How alike are the groans of love, to those of the dying.

To say nothing of what you lose, lose, lose, are losing, man. You fool, you stupid fool ... You've even been insulated from the responsibility of genuine suffering ... Even the suffering you do endure is largely unnecessary. Actually spurious. It lacks the very basis you require of it for its tragic nature. You deceive yourself.

Her father is dead. . . . Now she must never mention his name again. No one will ever mention his name. She must try not to think about him. He is dead.

To the former child migrants, who came to Australia from a home far away, led to believe this land would be a new beginning, when only to find it was not a beginning, but an end, an end of innocence - we apologise and we are sorry. To the mothers who lost the maternal right to love and care for their child - we apologise, and we are sorry.

The problem with Western culture is that it is a show-off culture that intimidates. This is why it is generating so much death, loss and displacement. To perform ritual for show is to generate some kind of death or loss. Concealment of ritual is an act of life preservation because it is only in its concealment that needs are met that cannot be met in any other way. If

He pulls the hood over my head. I try to pull back. I'm not trying to run away. I just want to see her... One last time...

That was all it took – a shower of rain, the slam of a door, the thrust of a knife or a gunshot – and just like that, a person could be gone with nothing but the memories of others to show that they'd ever existed.

God told me, "I have taken one from you, but I will give you thousands.

It takes time to heal the pain of loss, and then it takes time to heal the memory of the pain, and the belief that honour requires us to hold that pain for ever. Then it takes more time to find that the loves of our past can still be loved, that something new – or something old, rewoven – does not diminish them. And then while we may know that to be true for others, while we see it in others and want to speak of it daily, it is harder to see it equally in ourselves.

To heal at all, you need first to understand what is lost and why. I know of no fast way that might be done.

What will happen to the flowers, now that you are gone? The earth that clings to the steps, the tulsi that begins to sprout. The colors that brighten the darkness of the stairs, the scents that perfume the air. Must I climb alone the petal-strewn trail of your descent?

Harvard doesn't consider anyone a loss until he dies without a diploma, because they say he can always come back and finish.

Losing baby teeth were a part and parcel of one's life — a symbol of growing up, and it is the tooth-fairy that makes this otherwise dreaded and painful process an exciting one — something to look forward to.

João Gostoso era carregador de feira livre e morava no morro da Babilônia num barracão sem número Uma noite ele chegou no bar Vinte de Novembro Bebeu Cantou Dançou Depois se atirou na lagoa Rodrigo de Freitas e morreu afogado.

CHAMA E FUMO Amor - chama, e, depois, fumaça... Medita no que vais fazer: O fumo vem, a chama passa... Gozo cruel, ventura escassa, Dono do meu e do teu ser, Amor - chama, e, depois, fumaça... Tanto ele queima! e, por desgraça, Queimado o que melhor houver, O fumo vem, a chama passa... Paixão puríssima ou devassa, Triste ou feliz, pena ou prazer, Amor - chama, e, depois, fumaça... A cada par que a aurora enlaça, Como é pungente o entardecer! O fumo vem, a chama passa...

Not what it could have been: It is what it was. And what it was is dead. Octavio Paz, Lesson of Things, 1955