Quotes About Loss

Se preguntaba por qué el amor había esperado tanto, por qué había aguardado hasta el momento en que los límites del contacto y la renuncia humana se habían reducido al tamaño de aquel recordatorio que llevaba en la billetera: In Memoriam...

He dared not love again and lose. That loss was too great, that pain too keen.

And dreamed about death in the staggering particular, death as if death were still never yet heard of while something was ringing, she gasping, dissolving, slipping off into void while thinking over and over, I am not going to be, I will die, I won't be, and forever and ever, oh, Papa, don't let them, oh, don't let them do it, don't let me be nothing forever and melting, unraveling, ringing, the ringing—

This was like childhood, this grief.

He wondered why love had waited for this distance, waited for the moment when he need not touch, when the limits of contact and human surrender had dwindled to the size of a printed Mass card tucked in his wallet: In Memoriam...

One Soviet general, looking at a map of the territory Russia had acquired on the Karelian Isthmus, is said to have remarked: "We have won just about enough ground to bury our dead

Grief makes one hour ten

But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised, And mine that I was proud on--mine so much That I myself was to myself not mine, Valuing of her--why she, O, she is fall'n Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea Hath drops too few to wash her clean again, And salt too little which may season give To her foul tainted flesh!

The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief: He robs himself that spends a bootless grief

I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,And not have strew'd thy grave.

Grief fills the room up of my absent child,Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,Remembers me of all his gracious parts,Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form.

Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate,That Time will come and take my love away.This thought is as a death, which cannot chooseBut weep to have that which it fears to lose.

Reputation, reputation, reputation! O! I have lost my reputation. I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial.

O! wither'd is the garland of the war,The soldier's pole is fall'n; young boys and girlsAre level now with men; the odds is gone,And there is nothing left remarkableBeneath the visiting moon.

Howl, howl, howl, howl! O! you are men of stones:Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them soThat heaven's vaults should crack. She's gone forever.

The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief.

O mighty Caesar! dost thou lie so low?Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils,Shrunk to this little measure?

And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,Never, never, never, never, never!Pray you, undo this button.

You take my life when you do take the means whereby I live.

For he being dead, with him is beauty slain,And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again.

Come away, come away, death,And in sad cypress let me be laid;Fly away, fly away, breath;I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,And like enough thou know'st thy estimate.

My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter!Fled with a Christian! O my Christian ducats!Justice! the law! my ducats, and my daughter!A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,Of double ducats, stol'n from me by my daughter!

Having nothing, nothing can he lose.