Quotes About Loss

Look at what very ordinary people have lost, and think about that for a moment. What has happened to working-class communities in Scotland? To miners, for example. To fishermen? Who? You might well ask. To men and women who work with their hands? Who again? These people are being swept away by globalisation. Swept away. Now they're all so demoralised that they're caught in the culture of permanent sick notes. And who speaks for the young Scottish male, as a matter of interest?

To lose your own language was like forgetting your mother, and as sad, in a way.

Love and loss—two things that went together, it seemed, with a poignant inevitability; we loved, knowing that we would lose, but loved nonetheless because...She stopped. Yes, because we did not choose to love; we loved because we had to. Love was something that happened to us; it was never planned, even if we knew that some day, at some moment, it might alight upon us and—we hoped—change everything.

We must think of late people because I believe they're still with us—in a way. And so a late person can stay with you all your life, until it is your turn to become late too. And the late person doesn't want you to be miserable. A late person doesn't want you to think that your work is no use. A late person wants you to get on with life, to do things, to make good use of your time.

That at least was a consolation: separation and loss were something that we all experienced; the pain was shared, and was perhaps easier for that.

And thus they aged, as do all mortals. Until at last the husband found That death had opened wide its portals, Through which he entered, newly crowned.

My goddesses! You vanished faces! Oh, hearken to my woeful call: Have other maidens gained your places, Yet not replaced you after all? (12)

I've lived to see my longings die I've lived to see my longings die: My dreams and I have grown apart; Now only sorrow haunts my eye, The wages of a bitter heart. Beneath the storms of hostile fate, My flowery wreath has faded fast; I live alone and sadly wait To see when death will come at last. Just so, when the winds in winter moan And snow descends in frigid flakes, Upon a naked branch, alone, The final leaf of summer shakes!...

There is no loneliness like that of a failed marriage.

Each daughter experiences her father's death as if she were the only daughter on Earth, and he the only father.

Grief is an eroding wind. After grief has blown through, there is just the bedrock of a person.

It was the time of night that precedes dawn and is without perspective or reason. It was the hour when regret and fear overwhelm hope and courage and when all that is ugly in us is magnified and when we are most panic-stricken by what we have lost, and what we have almost lost, and what we fear we might lose.

What was the use of love if all it did was ruin things?

The friends we have lost do not repose under the ground...they are buried deep in our hearts. It has been thus ordained that they may always accompany us...

I am strong against everything, except against the death of those I love. He who dies gains; he who sees others die loses.

I have lost my friends, D'Artagnan said ruefully, burying his head in his hands. I have nothing left but the bitterest of recollections... Two large tears rolled down his cheeks. You are young, Athos answered. Your bitter recollections have the time requisite to change into the happiest of memories.

It was like the eve of a battle; the hearts beat, the eyes laughed, and they felft that the life they were perhaps going to lose, was after all, a good thing.

If a man has tortured and killed your father, your mother, your sweetheart, in short, one of those beings who leave an eternal emptiness and a perpetually bleeding wound when they are torn from your heart, do you think society has given you sufficient reparation because the blade of the guillotine has passed between the murderer's trapezius and his occipital bone, because the who made you undergo long years of mental and emotional suffering has undergone a few seconds of physical pain?

The heart breaks when, after having been elated by flattering hopes, it sees all its illusions destroyed.

Women weep for the dead. Men avenge them.

The sea has left us but the sun remains

Beneath the chinaberry tree at the school, on the wide rolling clay earth scattered with fallen berries, he had thought himself homesick. But now he felt as though the place he wanted to be no longer existed in the world.

Why is it that when we lose something big, we begin to lose everything else along with it?

Life was fragile and love was, too. At any moment, even our happiest ones, our world could shatter and we wouldn't see it coming. There was only more loss ahead, showing its ugly face when we least expected it.