Quotes About Loss

Iubirea ta este numai a ta. ÎÈ›i aparÈ›ine. Chiar dac? ea o refuz?, nu poate schimba nimic. Doar c? nu profit?. Momo, ceea ce oferi r?mâne la tine mereu; ceea ce p?strezi este pierdut pentru totdeauna.

En fait, je n'ai pas peur de l'inconnu. C'est just que ça m'ennuie de perdre ce que je connais.

Bense bundan bile daha az?yd?m. Ginza'daki fareden ya da Åžincuku'daki kargadan bile daha az?. Her ÅŸeyimi kaybetmiÅŸtim - ev, statü, iÅŸ, onur, haysiyet - özgürlüÄŸümden baÅŸka her ÅŸeyi. Zaten neyin özgürlüÄŸü? Çabuk bir ölüm ya da g?d?m g?d?m felaket aras?ndaki seçim özgürlüÄŸü.

Parfois, j'en viens à souhaiter qu'arrive très vite le jour où ma mère sera redevenue un nouveau-né pour que je la serre dans mes bras. Je lui dirais enfin combien je l'aime. Un baiser d'adieu pour moi. Pour elle un baiser de bienvenue...

Personne ne dirige cette guerre. Tout le monde la subit. On ne voit pas sur qui on tire. Les ennemis comme les camarades n'ont le temps d'avoir un visage qu'une fois morts. Cela dépasse toute mesure humaine.

If I am what I have and if what I have is lost, who then am I? Nobody but a defeated, deflated, pathetic testimony to a wrong way of living.

The anxiety engendered by confronting the abyss of nothingness [of the loss of self] is more terrifying than the tortures of hell. In the vision of hell, I am punished and tortured—In the vision of nothingness I am driven to the border of madness—because I cannot say 'I' any more.

At the very moment when man is on the verge of realizing his hope, he begins to lose it.

Frances reflecting on sudden death of husband: It made her wish that humans could write the script for their own endings, so that they could be approached with grace and preparedness , like wedding anniversaries and christenings.

One response to the loss of love, of the beloved, is an understanding of the illusory nature of partings, of the way love can transcend time and space

She'd decided a stranger had walked into the community and violated it, sliced into her world, taken her child away from her. Too much faith had been shattered already for Molly Cochran to allow for the possibility that it wasn't a stranger at all who'd abducted and murdered her child.

Love is like a flower when you pick it, it dies and if you hold on too tight it stops being beautiful.

And no one ever told her anything at all. Tears and shouted questions got her nothing but pitying looks and new dolls. While the dolls were nice, she still wanted to know where her mother had really gone and when her real papa was coming back to her. That was when she learned to be quiet and watch. When she tucked herself away in corners, people forgot she was there and talked about things in quiet, calm ways with no baby-speak. Bea hated baby-speak.

My very best friend died in a car accident when I was 16 years old. That was the hardest blow emotionally that I have ever had to endure. Suddenly, you realize tomorrow might not come. Now I live by the motto, 'Today is what I have.'

The grief loosens its jaw from my neck but doesn't let go.

Next to your beloved, Khayyam, how alone you are! Now that she is gone, you can take refuge in her.

Beaucoup ont quitté leur terre natale, et beaucoup d'autres, sans l'avoir quitté ne la reconnaissent plus.

Je n'ai pas connu le Levant de la grande époque, je suis venu trop tard, il ne restait plus du théâtre qu'un décor en lambeaux, il ne restait plus du festin que des miettes. Mais j'ai constamment espéré que la fête pourrait recommencer un jour, je ne voulais pas croire que le destin m'avait fait naître dans une maison déjà promise à la démolition.

Nous les aimons, ils meurent. Nous avons beau essayé de les retenir, ils nous glissent entre les doigts, ils s'en vont, ils meurent.

The reckless open their arms & topple into love, as do dreamers who fly in their dreams without fear or danger. Those who know that all love must end in loss do not fall but rather cross slowly from the not knowing into the knowing.

I learned what it was like to lose yourself. To feel the fragments flying off you. As if your soul has unhitched itself from your body and is flying away on a piece of string like a balloon. Lost in the clouds. You think, I only have to catch the end of the string. But though it hovers within sight, you cannot grasp it. You try and try. And then there comes a time when you are too tired. You no longer care. So you say: Let it go. Let me just fall down here on the soft grass and go to sleep.

When one remembers a scene from the past in which one is with a loved one who is now dead, it is not like a memory at all, but like a dream one is having before his death, a premonition. In this dream which preceded death, the person is tranquil and happy, and yet, without reason, you know he is to die. When we recall the dead, the past becomes a dream we are dreaming foretelling death, though in our waking moments we cannot properly interpret it or give it significance.

Frame after aluminium frame had replaced the casements. The gesture by which you push a window open was now unnecessary. ... It was as if a part of us that was air and breeze had been denied entry.

How do you lose a word? Does it vanish into your memory, like an old toy in a cupboard, and lie hidden in the cobwebs and dust, waiting to be cleaned out or rediscovered?