Quotes About Loss

There are so many things I can never get back. So much pain. So many tears. So, so much. ...but even so...I'm tired of always looking down and missing what's important.

My heart was breaking on my way home that day. I was crying ugly tears because I could feel it yet again...the feeling of something fading away. Fading away into 'memories.' And even if I don't forget the loneliness and sorrow that tore me apart...the memories themselves are fading, too. No matter how much I try to hold on...no matter how many times I swear it to myself...time moves on, and they begin to fade. It's cruel.

The living mourn the dead for a time but they forget about them as days pass. The living are so selfish, so spoilt, so taken with the very act of living that they don't remember long.

Something I tried to hold onto, to touch if only for a moment, but it slipped away from me like the air, like an illusion, or a dream that floats away and is lost. I wept in my sleep as though it was something I was losing now; a loss I was experiencing for the first time, and not something I had lost a long time ago.

My heart faltered, overcome by its frightened, almost frenzied beating because of something I had just lost, or was on the point of losing for ever. My fingers grasped at his hand with such violence that no force in the world, no matter how great, could take it away from me.

I was on the point of losing, or had just lost, for ever. My fingers held on to her hand with such violence that no force on earth, no matter how great, could tear it away from me.

But the people did get it. They had lost something -- not exactly their fear, but their patience. Suddenly it seemed unbearable to go on accepting these systems, these portly little idiots in their blue suits, for another year, and then for another day, another hour. That special sort of impatience is the power-surge of revolution.

Mortals fantasied that love was eternal and its loss unimaginable. Now we know neither is true. Love remained mortal, while we became eternal.

A feeling of loss of control over your own life and a nagging feeling of "What am I missing?

Maria had died in childbirth-related complications sixteen years before, in 1804, as her mother Martha (or Patty) Wayles Jefferson had died from childbirth before her, and as her grandmother had died after giving birth to her mother.

Picking five favorite books is like picking the five body parts you'd most like not to lose.

Thoreau, "At death, our friends and relatives either draw nearer to us, and are found out, or depart farther from us, and are forgotten.

Whatever is left behind in the passing of a rare talent, so much is always lost.

Technological immodesty is always an acute danger in Technopoly, which encourages it. Technopoly also encourages in-sensitivity to what skills may be lost in the acquisition of new ones. It is important to remember what can be done without computers, and it is also important to remind ourselves of what may be lost when we do use them.

He had not felt any genuine grief until the moment he accepted the flag, because he had hardly known his father and knew even less about what his father had done.

We can bring in all the guns and drugs we need and bring out all the bodies of people we don't.

Tin soldiers and Nixon coming We're finally on our own This summer I hear the drumming Four dead in Ohio.

It's hard enough losing with out the confusion of knowing I tried.

It's only castles burning

I know his death could have been avoided with a doctor who was really on top of it. He had so much life in him. It was wrong. I played my way through that first show and did "Old Man" for Ben (Keith) at the end. I looked over to my right and he was out there somewhere, but not next to me anymore.

For Achilles, the death of Patroclus pushed him into a fury, but it was not only grief that drove him. It was also a sense of shame and guilt because he had not been there to protect his friend. Sometimes men in combat feel this sort of survivor's guilt even though, realistically, they could have done nothing to prevent their comrade's death.

On the positive side, a strong sense of comradely loyalty triggers genuine affection and friendship. On the negative side, it may strengthen contempt for the lives of opponents and, of course, the loss of a comrade may be followed by even greater brutality in battle.

The Great Stone at the center of the Somme memorial has this inscription: "Their name liveth for evermore." The memorial contains 73,077 names, the names of young men who were robbed of life. Note that we often say that they gave their lives, but of course, this is not true; their lives were taken from them. It is not outrageous to consider the carving of their names and the false promise of "evermore" another act of violence.

O the chimneysOn the ingeniously devised habitations of deathWhen Israel's body drifted as smokeThrough the air—Was welcomed by a star, a chimney sweep,A star that turned blackOr was it a ray of sun?