Quotes About Loss

Whenever you are faced with the prospect of purchasing gloves, you must ask yourself if you would be bereft to lose one of them in the back of a taxicab. If not, then don't buy them. You should only buy gloves so beautiful that to lose one of them would break your heart.

I still can't believe I lost my virginity today!" "You'll never miss it," she said. And do you know something? She was absolutely right.

But I love him. So love him. But I miss him. So miss him. Send some love and light every time you think about him, and then drop it. [...]

Meanwhile, the object of your adoration has now become repulsed by you. He looks at you like you're someone he's never met before, much less someone he once loved with high passion. The irony is, you can hardly blame him. I mean, check yourself out. You're a pathetic mess, unrecognizable even to your own eyes.

Venice seems like a wonderful city in which to die a slow and alcoholic death, or to lose a loved one, or to lose the murder weapon with which the loved one was lost in the first place.

Grief does not obey your plans, or your wishes. Grief will do whatever it wants to you, whenever it wants to. In that regard, Grief has a lot in comon with Love.

This is what I've found about life, as I've gotten older: you start to lose people, Angela. It's not that there is ever a shortage of people—oh, heavens no. It is merely that—as the years pass—there comes to be a terrible shortage of your people. The ones you loved. The ones who knew the people that you both loved. The ones who know your whole history.

Not to mention that I have finally arrived at that age where a woman starts to question whether the wisest way to get over the loss of one beautiful brown-eyed young man is indeed to promptly invite another one into her bed.

I hope that your heart is strong within your grieving.

It's an honor to be in grief. It's an honor to feel that much, to have loved that much.

This is what I've found about life, as I've gotten older: you start to lose people. It's not that there is ever a shortage of people--oh, heavens no. It is merely that--as the years pass--there comes to be a terrible shortage of YOUR people. The ones YOU loved. The ones who knew the people that you BOTH loved. The ones who know your whole history.

Never buy inexpensive or poorly made gloves," Edna instructed us. "That's not the place to save your money. Whenever you are faced with the prospect of purchasing gloves, you must ask yourself if you would be bereft to lose one of them in the back of a taxicab. If not, then don't buy them. You should only buy gloves so beautiful that to lose one of them would break your heart.

I suppose there are worse ways to lose your virginity." "All the other ways are worse," Jennie said. Believe me. I've tried them all.

We'd been fighting and crying, and we were weary in that way that only a couple whose marriage is collapsing can be weary. We had the eyes of refugees.

There's a hole in our world from all the art those people did not make—there is a hole in us from the loss of their work—and I cannot imagine this was ever anyone's divine plan.

It's the emotional recoil that kills you, the shock of stepping off the track of a conventional lifestyle and losing all the embracing comforts that keep so many people on that track forever.

Then you made an expensive error.

There were times when she looked up from her labors to ask her mother a question - looking over to the chair where Beatrix had always sat - and was startled by the nothingness to be found there. It was like looking at a spot on a wall where a clock had hung for years, and seeing only an empty space. She could not train herself not to look; the emptiness surprised her every time.

It has been so hard for me to imagine living a life without him in it. Even just to imagine that there will never be another road trip with my favourite travelling companion.

There is a limit, I have found, to how much you can mourn as "tragic" the death of an older person who has lived a rich life, and who is privileged enough to die surrounded by loved ones. There are so many worse ways to live, after all, and so many worse ways to die. From

as the years pass—there comes to be a terrible shortage of your people. The ones you loved. The ones who knew the people that you both loved. The ones who know your whole history.

If I'd known then what I know now—namely: that so many of those beautiful young boys would soon be lost to the battlefields of Europe or to the infernos of the South Pacific—I would have had sex with even more of them. If it sounds like I'm being facetious, I'm not.

This is what I've found about life, as I've gotten older: you start to lose people, Angela. It's not that there is ever a shortage of people—oh, heavens no. It is merely that—as the years pass—there comes to be a terrible shortage of your people. The ones you loved. The ones who knew the people that you both loved. The ones who know your

This is what I've found about life, as I've gotten older: you start to lose people, Angela. It's not that there is ever a shortage of people—oh, heavens no. It is merely that—as the years pass—there comes to be a terrible shortage of your people. The ones you loved. The ones who knew the people that you both loved. The ones who know your whole history. Those