Quotes About Loss

But the tender grace of a day that is deadWill never come back to me.

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,Tears from the depth of some divine despairRise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,In looking on the happy autumn fields,And thinking of the days that are no more.

Bury the Great DukeWith an empire's lamentation.

Do we indeed desire the deadShould still be near us at our side?

Ah Christ, that it were possible For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us What and where they be.

Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

O all fair lovers about the world, There is none of you, none, that shall comfort me. My thoughts are as dead things, wrecked and whirled Round and round in a gulf of the sea; And still, through the sound and the straining stream, Through the coil and chafe, they gleam in a dream, The bright fine lips so cruelly curled, And strange swift eyes where the soul sits free.

Ah, had I not taken my life up and given All that life gives and the years let go, The wind and honey, the balm and leaven, The dreams reared high and the hopes brought low? Come life, come death, not a word be said; Should I lose you living, and vex you dead? I never shall tell you on earth; and in heaven, If I cry to you then, will you hear or know?

For winter's rains and ruins are over, And all the season of snows, and sins; The days dividing lover and lover, The light that loses, the night that wins; And time remembered is grief forgotten, And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, And in green underwood and cover Blossom by blossom the spring begins.

Unfortunate is he who cannot gain a few sincere friends during his life and more unfortunate is the one who has gained them and then lost them (through his deeds).

I wished that my own bones were unbound, I wished they were mingling, picked clean by fish, with the bones of another body, a body my bones and heart and soul had loved with unfathomable certainty for decades, and both of us down deep now, lost to everything but the fact of bare bones on a dark seabed.

So always risk your skin, she said, and never fear losing it, cause it always does some good one way or another when the powers that be deign to take it off us.

Stop thieving my tragedy

it's the best fish I've ever caught, that fish I didn't catch, cause it's a fish that will always be with me now and never be eaten, it'll never die, that fish I'll never land.

It takes a death sometimes to make us all live a bit more, Iris says.

the room had been lost 'til then. So, if you were in a room, I mean if you were just sitting in a room, could the room you were in get lost?

A missed chance, a ruined life.

after she's dead she's going to come back every year as blossom on a tree. And if you die before me, he says, I will spend all the time I'm alive and not with you negotiating the various time differences across the world so that I can spend as much time as a man possibly can on this planet in springtime, in search of you

But now it was as if such simplicity had, without him even noticing it happening, grown very small and far away and him on the deck of an old ocean liner heading towards rough sea and waving like a madman back at a shore which, like a time when there'd been a steady kind of joy in something like the simplicity of a lemon, had disappeared, vanished completely, was no longer visible to the eye. Is no longer. Loser.

can't bear it, he said. It is like your mother has become a dwarf and as if her dwarf self is always twinkling away in all the corners of the house and the yard, always in the corner of my eye. I shrugged.

And after that, I watched our house collapse in on itself and I spent some time lying in the rubble. Then I vanished completely. I wasn't here at all. Then you phoned.

I feel more influenced in my own work by dreams than I do by other writers' works in a way. Or by popular culture, movies - what else is there to write about than love and loss?

They should invent some way to tape-record your dreams. I've written songs in my dreams that were Beatles songs. Then I'd wake up and they'd be gone.

The day should be as it was sure to be-- When this was home no more to him--when he Could go there only when his brother's wife Should ask him--to a room not his--his life Would shrink and lose its meaning. How unjust, I thought. Why do they feel it must Go to that idle, insolent eldest son? Well, in the end it went to neither one.