Quotes About Loss

Divorce is probably as painful as death.

We live in grief for having left the womb, for having left the teat, then school, then home. In my case, it was leaving marriages, and the death of my wife.

My dad died of a stroke.

When I did the film Generations, in which the character died, I felt like a guest for the first time. That made me very sad.

Death ends a life, but it does not end a relationship. —

By the time we became friends, he was concerned he was losing his facility for the language, so he actually found a Yiddish-speaking psychiatrist in Los Angeles and paid her hourly fee once a week just to sit and speak with him in Yiddish. He

A love that is true to living persons and existing realities is steadfast and fine. But I saw then, for the first time, that a love which was fastened upon the dead and true to nothing but a past that was finished, is not a good nor true emotion. If it went on too long, it could become an incubus, throttling a man from the real life of the present, which is the life that we were fashioned to meet and experience.

would not be for the sake of a woman five years dead whose image in my mind was now as evanescent as the smell of lavender in an old drawer.

And in the end, Jody again has his pony—but at the terrible cost of learning even the most wondrous gifts are sometimes impermanent.

He had been "drunken" on their rhythms. But now his mind had gone silent, and sitting alone with nothing to do in his remote cabin, all seemed lost. The wind rattled at the door. "It is sad," Steinbeck said in closing, "when the snow is falling.

There may be losses too great to understand That rove after you and--faint and terrible-- rip unknown through your hand.

Your absence has gone through me like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color.

As the result of the war, Stalin's economic administrator, Nikolai Voznesensky, informed him in January 1946, the USSR lost 30 percent of its national wealth.

I confess, without shame, that I am sick and tired of fighting — its glory is all moonshine; even success the most brilliant is over dead and mangled bodies, with the anguish and lamentations of distant families, appealing to me for sons, husbands, and fathers ... it is only those who have never heard a shot, never heard the shriek and groans of the wounded and lacerated ... that cry aloud for more blood, more vengeance, more desolation.

The flies of some other summer darkening its windowsills.

Only the debris of wreckage, and not much of that, was left behind by the sharks who fed on tragedy: the fishermen, too, mourned the death of a living child.

But you didn't lose touch with a place when it wasn't there any more, you didn't lose touch with yourself as you were when you were part of it, with your childhood, with your simplicity then.

If there is a single lesson I have learned, it is this: in life, we are destined to lose many things. That is the nature of life. Never mind. Just don't lose the present. Nothing is worth it.

Though nothing can bring back the hourOf splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower.

The sunshine is a glorious birth;But yet I know, where'er I go,That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.

The mind that is wise mourns less for what age takes away than what it leaves behind.

That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.

What fond and wayward thoughts will slideInto a lover's head!"O mercy!" to myself I cried,"If Lucy should be dead!"

Splendour in the Grass What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower, We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind. --