Quotes About Loss

We just went through a bad divorce. - Violent bad? Restraining-order bad? - No, no. Just emotionally painful. - OK, so an ordinary divorce.

He'd realized only recently that at the center of the act of sitting down was a loss of control, a blind backwards free fall.

En general, la perspectiva del dolor, el dolor de la pérdida, de la ruptura, de la muerte, es la razón por la que resulta tan tentador eludir el amor y quedarse a salvo en el mundo del gustar

It was the prospect of another two or three or five years of sex in the ashes that made me think of death.

He could see the desired outcomes, the drowning at sea, the shotgun blast, the plunge from a height, so near to him still that he refused to believe he had lost the opportunity to avail himself of their relief.

A four-year-old says, "My mommy lives in heaven. Her eyelashes go down instead of up because she is Ã¢â'¬Â¦ in heaven, but I miss her." She feels consoled that her mother "is with God," who, she says, "has pink whiskers, red hair, and two feet.… I did not want her to die until I died. I think I am going to die too in a little while.

Mother died when he was twelve. He did not want sympathy, he only wanted her back.

Anyway, it struck me now in a different light, as being yet another bit of personal meaning which had ben taken from me, stripped off like clothes I'd only borrowed or stolen. I had maybe the least persuasive case for self-pity of any human soul on the planet. Or anyway, the most hilarious.

If. If Mingus Rude could be kept in this place, kept somehow in Dylan's pocket, in his stinging, smudgy hands, then summer wouldn't give way to whatever came after. If. If. Fat chance. Summer on Dean Street had lasted one day and that day was over, it was dark out, had been for hours. The Williamsburg Savings Bank tower clock read nine-thirty in red-and-blue neon. Final score, a million to nothing. The million-dollar kid. Your school wasn't on fire, you were.

His recording career spans just a decade: Rude was silenced by drug abuse and domestic tragedy at the end of the '70s.

I wanted to tell her everything, maybe if I'd been able to, we could have lived differently, maybe I'd be there with you now instead of here. Maybe... if I'd said, 'I'm so afraid of losing something I love that I refuse to love anything,' maybe that would have made the impossible possible. Maybe, but I couldn't do it, I had buried too much too deeply inside me. And here I am, instead of there.

In the end, everyone loses everyone. There was no invention to get around that, and so I felt, that night, like the turtle that everything else in the universe was on top of.

It's hard to say goodbye to the place you've lived. It can be as hard as saying goodbye to a person.

I didn't understand why I needed help, because it seemed to me that you should wear heavy boots when your dad dies, and if you aren't wearing heavy boots, then you need help.

I looked at everyone and wondered where they came from, and who they missed, and what they were sorry for.

When I heard your organization was recording testimonies, I knew I had to come. She died in my arms, saying 'I don't want to die.' That is what death is like. It doesn't matter what uniforms the soldiers are wearing. It doesn't matter how good the weapons are. I thought if everyone could see what I saw, we would never have war anymore.

I try not to remember the life that I didn't want to lose but lost and have to remember

I'd lost count of the disappointments.

I said, 'I need to know how he died.' He flipped back and pointed at, 'Why?' So I can stop inventing how he died. I'm always inventing.

The paper, the stapler, the staples, the tape. It makes me sick. Physical things. Forty years of loving someone becomes staples and tape.

She died in my arms, saying, I don't want to die. That is what death is like. It doesn't matter what uniforms the soldiers are wearing. It doesn't matter how good the weapons are. I thought if everyone could see what I saw, we would never have war anymore.

How beautiful is forgetting! What relief it would be for the world to lose some of its contents.

I'm so afraid of losing something I love that I refuse to love anything,' maybe that would have made the impossible possible. Maybe, but I couldn't do it, I had buried too much too deeply inside me. And here I am, instead of there.

Oskar Schell: If the sun were to explode, you wouldn't even know about it for 8 minutes because thats how long it takes for light to travel to us. For eight minutes the world would still be bright and it would still feel warm. It was a year since my dad died and I could feel my eight minutes with him... were running out.