Quotes About Loss

Everyone who'd lost something of crucial importance wished he or she could go back to the moment when it was still theirs. The wish was so powerful it seemed it might reverse the direction of time. It bore apparitions and ghosts.

But there was a last time. An unforeseen and uncommemorated last time. I don't remember it. That, more than anything, describes aging to me—the letting go of one activity after the next, with no fanfare. Just realizing later that the last time has come and gone," Agnes said.

We were, are, relentlessly, pridefully, stoical. We admire fortitude. We were raised to think a person has a right to be upset, in the event of loss or disappointment, but there are ways to acknowledge it without plodding through the embarrassment of a scene. Stop crying. Pull yourself together. Be brave.

Some things, when they change, never do return to the way they once were. Butterflies for instance, and women who've been in love with the wrong man too often.

Here is the riddle of love: Everything it gives to you, it takes away.

All loss is gain. Since I have become so near-sighted I see no dust nor squalor, and therefore conceive of myself as living in splendor.

It was not the future they'd been objecting to, but the loss of the past. As if it was his fault that you could now have one without the other

We are at the mercy of time, and for all the ways we are remembered, a sea of things will be lost. But how much is contained in what lingers!

Because if she let go of her grief even for a minute it would only hit her harder when she bumped into it again.

If I decided to send this to you, where would I send it? When I think of writing the whole address on the envelope I am paralyzed. It's too painful to think of you in the same place with your life going on in the same way, minus me. And to think of you not there, you somewhere else but I don't know where that is, is worse.

Gee whiz, it's all fucking heart- breaking

I want to go back to where I once lived, but it isn't there anymore; that one of me isn't here.

Now I feel I was inserted into life exactly not to do that. For I have been robbed of everything that made me social

I want to know why my loves had to die.

You used to take my breath away. Now no one does.

My history and civilization are literally melting; everyone knows.

I already have no point of view except that of the fallen. I have no individuality, because I'm a deadened thing.

Evaporated I've never been there.

I have no needs. No country, no continent, no hope. I sit in blackness where I once lived. In magic, the only force I recognize. What is it? a face cries, skittering away. All that's left, I reply

Hurts so—That's just loss. This hole within—

The edges of your wound surround a void

I cried in the kitchen, his death was stupid at such a young age.

where we once sat lamenting.

And my love. Which is visible here in death . . . it's part of what you're left with when you die.