Quotes About Loss

Se'm desdibuixa per l'horitzó de pluja la teva imatge, però et mantinc ben viva als dits i a la memòria.

What will life be like without her? I am dreadfully sad she is leaving. What if she just disappears; gets tired of all this trouble at home? What if she leaves me too? How heavy is a dresser when you're the only one pushing it against the door? I feel truly on my own.

and chicken bones for fossilized remains. A lifetime later I am building a world inside my head: I run down narrow staircases, dark halls and passageways, chased by the fear of forgetting. Inside a room is a diorama from deep time, when dinosaurs ruled the earth. In 1969, the year our mother's younger cousin, Philip, shipped out for Vietnam, and our father stopped sending us child support, I turned ten years

Your God would never punish you for being a human being: this life itself is your penance...But it is also more than that: it is a crucible for transformation. Each trial, every loss, is an opportunity for you to meet suffering with love and make of it an offering, a prayer. The minute you lift your pain like a candle the darkness vanishes, and mercy comes rushing in to heal you.

There was nothing in this world that was not a con, suddenly I understood this. Nothing really mattered, and nothing could be lost.

What was the lifespan of these improbable loves? An hour. A week. A few months at best. The end was a natural thing, like the seasons, like getting older, fruit turning. That was the saddest part—there was no one to blame and no way to reverse

Nothing really mattered, and nothing could be lost.

I was still feeling the old loss, just in a new way.

He drank the cotton-candy milk from the day at the pier. The last batch was from the morning she left and this milk was full of plans I didn't know about. When he finished that bottle she was really gone, every last drop of her.

Where did they go, those things we did?

Morning had gotten lost on the way home. We would lie this way forever, always saying goodbye, never parting.

I ran a bath. Just before I stepped in the tub, I heard the front door close and froze in midstep; she was gone. Sometimes she did this. In the moments where other couples would fight or come together, she left me.

And she felt a real sense of loss. Even though she knew she had never had an accent. It was the birthmark, which in its density had lent color even to her voice. She didn't miss the birthmark, but she missed her Norwegian heritage, like learning of new relatives, only to discover they have just died.

And our very few intimacies were simply discontinued. Where did they go, those things we did? Were they recycled?

Toate mi s-au p?rut cu neputin?? de suportat, ca ÅŸi cînd ai vrea s? Å£ii mîna pe un fier înroÅŸit. Nici nu ÅŸtia c? exiÅŸti cînd ÅŸi le-a f?cut, iar faptul c? ai pierdut momente atît de preÅ£ioase din viaÅ£a ei c? a risipit atîta emoÅ£ie pentru altcineva decît pentru tine, chiar dac? pentru nimeni, este de neînÅ£eles, de netr?it.

Am mai v?zut fotografii de-ale ei de cînd era doar o adolescent?. Toate mi s-au p?rut cu neputin?? de suportat, ca ÅŸi cînd ai vrea s? Å£ii mîna pe un fier înroÅŸit. Nici nu ÅŸtia c? exiÅŸti cînd ÅŸi le-a f?cut, iar faptul c? ai pierdut momente atît de preÅ£ioase din viaÅ£a ei c? a risipit atîta emoÅ£ie pentru altcineva decît pentru tine, chiar dac? pentru nimeni, este de neînÅ£eles, de netr?it.

amorul nostru nemuritor s-a dus dracului"...

If one lives to a grand old age, loss is an accepted part of life. It comes with the territory

anyone who's ever lost a parent, child, lover, spouse, or close friend, knows that grief is one of the most powerful emotional forces there is—powerful enough to shatter the self we've carefully constructed.

The king has been robbed by beggars.

All happiness has vanished

Hearts have quite abandoned it

Now this peasant came petition him an eighth time; he said: "0 high steward, my lord! Men fall low through greed. The rapacious man lacks success ; his success is loss. Though you are greedy it does nothing for you. Though you steal you do not profit. Let a man defend his rightful cause!

Lo, [scribes] are slain, Their writings stolen, Woe is me for the grief of this time!