Quotes About Loss

There is no panacea for this kind of loss. Just know that every day it gets the tiniest bit better-- suddenly one day you can put it in a different perspective.

My skull connects with a hard, flat thing I think is the wet asphalt pavement of the parking lot, but turns out to be a bolt of greasy lightning that knocks me off a high wall into a deep, wet place that covers me up tight under a blue-black blanket of blankness…

Once upon a time, in the Official Version, we were blessed and happy, our parents young, privileged and good-looking, we, their children, bound for special destinies like they'd had. In Boston, our ship struck the iceberg and went down in an hour, but all hands appeared to make to the lifeboats. The trip to shore proves long, and only when we finally muster do we realize one of us is missing.

Leeds United had won but I didn't care. I had lost.

You waited in the same piss for your Pete to show. He didn't so you went inside and cremated your mother. Stood alone at the front and bit the inside of your cheek until the blood wouldn't stop and the tears finally came.

Now before you all go off for your lovely hot baths, before you all piss off in your lovely new suits and your lovely flash card to your lovely new houses and your lovely young wives, you can all get down on your bloody hands and knees and look for my fucking watch!

But it's over. It's over and you know it- No League Championships. No FA Cups. No European Cups- The roar and the whistle. The applause and the adoration- Finished forever. Second best. Forever.

The greater our attachment to that which is outside of ourselves, the greater is our overall level of fear and vulnerability to loss.

In many ways, soil degradation set the long-wavelenght pattern of history, as wars, natural disasters, and climate shifts pulled the trigger on environmental guns loaded by soil loss and degradation.

The dead forever change the living.

In the hero stories, the call to go on a journey takes the form of a loss, an error, a wound, an unexplainable longing, or a sense of a mission. When any of these happens to us, we are being summoned to make a transition. It will always mean leaving something behind,...The paradox here is that loss is a path to gain.

THE FIRST GIVEN of life is that changes and endings are inevitable for any person, relationship, enthusiasm, or thing. Nothing is perfect, permanently satisfying, or permanently anything. Everything falls apart in time. Every beginning leads to a finale. Built into all experiences, persons, places, and things is a life span. Our relationships pass through phases, from romance through struggle to commitment. Then they end with death or separation.

We do not let go of control on our own. Usually, something has to happen that shows us incontrovertibly that we are not in control. From this condition of bankrupt ego, we finally let go. Great losses are thus necessary losses like the discarded sandbags that lighten a balloon so it can ascend higher.

In the hero stories, the call to go on a journey takes the form of a loss, a depression, an error, a wound, an unexplainable longing, or a sense of a mission. When any of these happens to us, we are being summoned to make a transition.

Even the pleasant things in life are grasped after with an unwarranted desire which overestimates the pleasure they will give, and is accompanied by a constant fear of their loss.

With such limited support, most participants in diet studies don't change their behavior very much, and the comparison groups (for example, people assigned to a low-fat versus a low-carbohydrate diet) don't wind up eating much differently from each other. Not surprisingly, these studies produce very little weight loss in any group.

Per the dictionary definition, risk is "a situation involving exposure to danger, harm, or loss." We face the possibility of loss in whatever we buy or invest in. For

One stock in the group of 30 stocks disappointed and showed up as a loss, but others had gone up to 100%, 200%, and even up to 500%. Mr.

I would miss having Nic in my life. I would miss his funny phone messages and his humor, the stories, our talks, our walks, watching movies with him, dinners together, and the transcendent feeling between us that is love. I would miss all of it. I miss it now. And here it sinks in: I don't have it now. I have not had it whenever Nic has been on drugs. Nic is absent, only his shell remains. I have been afraid - terrified - to lose Nic, but I have lost him.

Thomas Lynch showed me that it is possible to love a child who is lost, possibly forever.

I longed for someone to scrape out every remnant of Nic from my brain and scrape out the knowledge of what was lost and scrape out the worry and not only my anguish but his and the burning inside like I might scrape out the seeds and juicy pulp of an overripe melon, leaving no trace of the rotted flesh.

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; Then have I reason to be fond of grief.

Nic is absent, only his shell remains. I have been afraid—terrified—to lose Nic, but I have lost him. In the past, I tried to imagine the unimaginable and I tried to imagine bearing the unbearable. I imagined losing Nic by overdose or accident, but now I comprehend that I have already lost him. Today, at least, he is lost.

When Hercule Poirot died on that late November afternoon in 2012, a part of me died with him.