Quotes About Loss

In the wake of a human being's death, what survives is a set of afterglows, some brighter and some dimmer, in the collective brains of those who were dearest to them...Though the primary brain has been eclipsed, there is, in those who remain...a collective corona that still glows. - Douglas Hofstadter

It hurt to kill a dream, like tearing petals off a rose in full bloom.

Michel and Annette Muller's mother, snatched from her children at Beaune-la-Rolande, died at Auschwitz. And while it was the Nazis who wished her dead, it was the French who put her in harm's way.

Loss. A strange word. It seemed to mean an absence, something missing; but loss was also a presence all its own, a fanged and snarling monster ready at any moment to break its chain and snatch someone away.

I believe that the purpose of death is the release of love.

Out on the street I felt lost wandering around without my child. I felt I ought to wear a pin that said: I have a child in school at the moment.

My world is falling apart.

What do you miss about being alive? The sound of my mom singing, a little off-key. The way my dad went to all my swim meets and I could hear his whistle when my head was underwater, even if he did yell at me afterward for not trying harder. I miss going to the library. I miss the smell of clothes fresh out of the dryer. I miss diving off the highest board and nailing the landing. I miss waffles - p. 272.

Didn't help to ponder things that were forever gone. It only made a body restless and fill up with bees, all wanting to sting something.

I want to tell him that it's just a stupid car, but bits of me are scattered all over town; the graveyard, school, Cassie's room, the motel, and standing in from of the sink in my mother's kitchen. It takes too much energy to gather all the bits together, so I just sit there and watch him implode.

This is the story of a girl who lost her voice and wrote herself a new one.

You're not dead but you're not alive. You're a wintergirl.

I'm fighting the shock of having a guest in my room. I almost kick her out because it's going to hurt too much when my room is empty again.

I looked in the mirror and realized that I was already dead. I let you kill me one piece at a time, starting when I was, what? Eight years old? Nine? You killed yourself and then you came after us.

I thought of all the ancestors waiting at the water's edge for their stolen children to come home. Waiting and waiting and waiting . . .

On the morning of my Born Day, I thought my problems were over. That I'd grown from Changeling to Amazon. That I was ready to be a warrior. Instead, I lost everything. Everyone. I lost myself, too.

My momma and poppa appeared from the shadows. They flew to me and wrapped their arms around me and cooled my face with their ghost tears.

Stupido corpo. Che senso ha farmi crescere i peli e lasciare invece che i capelli cadano?

The shape of my life had altered when Bellingham enlisted me. It changed again when I escaped the prison. It shattered when Isabel left.

You know what I realized?" "What?" "Most of the people I know are dead. I guess that happens

I went back to the Chevy. Some juvenile delinquent had relieved me of my radio aerial—in the morning he would go to shop class and make a zip gun out of it. Deprived of music, I headed dolefully for Brooklyn. I went back to the Chevy. Some juvenile delinquent had relieved me of my radio aerial—in the morning he would go to shop class and make a zip gun out of it. Deprived of music, I headed dolefully for Brooklyn. SIX

Sorrow is implicit in love as gravitation is implicit in mass.

A poem with its throat cut from ear to ear. The Daily Mirror

Today is a sad day in Country music. We have lost another piece of history. George Jones was not only a good singer, but was a good friend. He will be missed by many.