Quotes About Loss

Aber das ist wohl so, weil ein einzelner immer der Tod ist — und zwei Millionen immer nur eine Statistik.

He is right. We are not youth any longer. We don't want to take the world by storm. We are fleeing. We fly from ourselves. From our life. We were eighteen and had begun to love life and the world; and we had to shoot it to pieces. The first bomb, the first explosion, burst in our hearts. We are cut off from activity, from striving, from progress. We believe in such things no longer, we believe in the war.

Hai ragione: non siamo più giovani, non ci interessa più dare l'assalto al mondo. Siamo dei profughi, fuggiamo da noi stessi. Avevamo diciott'anni, e cominciavamo ad amare il mondo e l'esistenza: ci hanno costretti a spararle contro. La prima granata ci ha colpiti al cuore. Siamo esclusi ormai dall'attività, dal lavoro, dal progresso, non ci crediamo più. Crediamo alla guerra.

I'm still in shape. I jog along the Charles each evening. If I go five miles, I get to glimpse the lights of Harvard just across the river. And see all the places I had walked when I was happy. I run back in the darkness, reminiscing just to pass the time. Sometimes I ask myself what I would be if Jenny were alive. And I answer: I would be alive.

Sometimes I ask myself what I would be if Jenny were alive. And then I answered: I would also be alive.

Sometimes I ask myself what I would be if Jenny were alive. And then I answer:I would also be alive.

It was the loss of the books that she grieved above all. . . One keeps remembering some odd little book that one had; one can't list them all, and it is best to forget them now that they are ashes.

Families learned of the deaths of kin mostly by telegram, but some knew or sensed their loss even when no telegram brought the news. Husbands and wives had promised to write letters or send cables to announce their safe arrival, but these were never sent. Passengers who had arranged to stay with friends in England and Ireland never showed up. The worst were those situations where a passenger was expected to be on a different ship but for one reason or another had ended up on the Lusitania

You wish you had not come. If there were not so many around, you would reach out your arms, with the prayer on your lips for it all to come back to you. It seems cruel, cruel, to give us such a vision; to let us dream and drift through heaven for six months, and then to take it out of our lives.

Of the four men in Preston Prichard's cabin, D-90, only one survived, his friend Arthur Gadsden. Prichard's body was never recovered, yet in the red volume that now contains the beautifully archived replies to Mrs. Prichard's letters there exists a surprisingly vivid sense of him, as though he resided still in the peripheral vision of the world.

The Death of Boris,' by Mussorgsky?

Of the 791 passengers designated by Cunard as missing, only 173 bodies, or about 22 percent, were eventually recovered, leaving 618 souls unaccounted for. The percentage for the crew was even more dismal, owing no doubt to the many deaths in the luggage room when the torpedo exploded.

OF THE LUSITANIA'S 1,959 PASSENGERS AND CREW, only 764 survived; the total of deaths was 1,195. The 3 German stowaways brought the total to 1,198. Of 33 infants aboard, only 6 survived. Over 600 passengers were never found. Among the dead were 123 Americans.

It was a difficult ride for him. He had passed this way before, to bury John Root. The fair had begun with death, and now it had ended with death.

love dies slowly with me, if at all

The official burdens on your shoulders are indeed heavy. I write to tell you how deeply I sympathize with you in having to bear this new burden of personal loss and sorrow.

Fires were still raging all over the place; some of the larger buildings were mere skeletons, and many of the smaller houses had been reduced to piles of rubble." He was struck in particular by the sight of paper Union Jacks planted in mounds of shattered lumber and brick. These, he wrote, "brought a lump to one's throat.

A single German submarine, Unterseeboot-9—U-9, for short—commanded by Kptlt. Otto Weddigen, had sunk all three ships, killing 1,459 British sailors, many of them young men in their teens.

After a few moment he reached for her wrist and felt her pulse fade to nothing, like the rumble of a receding train.

In losing her he lost not merely his main source of companionship but also his primary adviser, whose observations he had found so useful in helping shape his own thinking.

As the crowd thundered, a man eased up beside a thin, pale woman with a bent neck. In the next instant Jane Addams realized her purse was gone. The great fair had begun.

Isaac, at this point, still considered Moore a personal friend. It hurt him, no doubt, that Moore had distorted the story of his experience in the storm. Isaac had lost his wife and home, and had nearly lost a daughter, but Moore could not be bothered with the actual details.

All the despair, terror and anguish of hundreds of souls passing into eternity composed that awful cry.

I am tired of always dying with a broken heart.