Quotes About Loss

But the Earth holds ghosts, even of entire nations.

I read an essay by a little girl ... She wrote,' I am nothing and nobody. My cat was stuck to the wall. I tried to pull her off but they threw my cat away.

The human capacity for grief. It just isn't capable of providing an adequate emotional response once the dead exceed a few dozen in number. And it doesn't just level off—it just gives up, resets itself to zero. Admit it. None of us feel a damn about these people.

The tragedy of life is what dies inside a man while he lives.

Per perdere la testa, bisogna averne una...

We seem never to know what any thing means or is worth until we have lost it.

Partly, what we are may be what we believe we once were and lost.

My Latin teacher would say, "We must be grateful that we don't know what the great books were that perished in Alexandria, because if we knew what they were, we'd be inconsolable.

What the poet tells us is that, after the ordeals and adventures, after the revelation and the loss, the king must do two things: preserve the splendor of his city and tell his own story. Both tasks are complementary: both speak of the intimate connection between building a city of walls and building a story of words, and both require, in order to be accomplished, the existence of the other.

Die Freunde, an die ich denke, sind in der Zeit gefangen wie in einem Film. Sie (viele von ihnen sind tot, verschollen) sind in dem Alter, in dem ich sie zuletzt gesehen habe; ich bezweifle, dass sie mich jetzt wiedererkennen würden.

Nothing could assuage the secular grief that was your heritage.

It is finished. Old Mitsima's words repeated themselves in his mind. Finished, finished....In silence and from a long way off, but violently. desperately, hopelessly, he had loved Kiakimé. And now it was finished. He was sixteen.

The work of a hundred years destroyed in a single night. And yet the fact remained - the fact of the ending of sorrow as well as the fact of sorrow.

Of that imagined stoicism, that theoretical courage, not a trace was left.

Kitaplara bakarken, Uzaysal iliÅŸkilerde durum ne? diye sordu araÅŸt?rmac?. /.../ Uzay hâlâ oradayd?, ama üstünlüÄŸünü kaybetmiÅŸti. /.../ Yeterince var gibi görünüyor. AraÅŸt?rmac? zaman hakk?nda ne hissettiÄŸimi sorduÄŸunda bütün söyleyebileceÄŸim buydu.

Tis like the dripping of some stagnant rain From the housetops of a ruined city Upon the flagstones. Not one petal clings Upon the stalk of life or memory. Stain Not one pale thought with blushes ; my soul's dead As a corpse flung out of the tideway on The stinking flats of London mud.

Antes de ahora tenía una vida y mi violín —dijo, poniéndome la mano en el brazo —. Ahora sólo me queda el violín. Y ahí empezó todo. Empezó Serena.

Fue la casualidad. O quizá no, quizá fue más sencillo que eso. Quizá fue simplemente que a veces la vida nos quita cosas y otras, cuando menos creemos necesitarlo, decide cuidarnos, fiel a una ley de la compensación que no responde a la física ni a la química, sino a un orden que nadie ha sabido explicar todavía.

Perché non mi manchi, se sei mio padre? Perché non so chi sei, papà?

Because sometimes you have no control over life and it keeps you far away from who you love.

The more you lose, the more is to be lost, yet it matters less.

We are full of words whose true meaning we haven't been taught, and one of those words is suffering. Another is the word death. We don't know what they mean, but we use them, and this is a mystery.

Tu eri morto – disse – e non c'era più niente di bello, al mondo.

Quel che aveva capito, con certezza assoluta, era che vivere senza di lui sarebbe stato, per sempre, la sua occupazione fondamentale, e che da quel momento le cose avrebbero avuto ogni volta un'ombra, per lei, un'ombra in più, perfino nel buio, e forse soprattutto nel buio.