Quotes About Loss

Harrison wrote a two-page poem about his deep feelings of loss when his dog Filbert died, and Mrs. Minerva, the creative writing teacher, gave it a B-minus. Do you know what that does to a a person to get a B-minus in Grief?

I flopped on the overstuffed kitchen couch and watched him go. I wondered what would happen to all his films and photographs in the upstairs closet - the documentaries on homelessness and drug addiction, the funny short subjects, the half-finished romantic comedy, the boxes of slice-of-life photographs that spoke volumes about the human condition. I wondered how you stop caring about what you've ached over, sweated over. (Thwonk)

How could a man with so much heart die from a heart attack?

You don't understand the power of loss when it first hits you like a baseball coming fast from an out-of-control pitcher....It's the third day after an injury when the pain really starts to throb.

The time is now. The time is for reflection on what we've lost in life, yes, but for what we have left in life too. It's time to begin to live life fuller rather than faster.

Aki megszületik, annak meg is kell halnia. Akik találkoznak, azoknak el is kell válniuk... De amin megosztozunk ebben az életben, azt már soha nem lehet elvenni tÅ'lünk.

Don't worry. You're safe now. You've got nothing left to steal.

we are imperfect mortal beings, aware of that mortality even as we push it away, failed by our very complication, so wired that when we mourn our losses we also mourn, for better or for worse, ourselves. as we were. as we are no longer. as we will one day not be at all.

Although I have felt compelled to write things down since I was five years old, I doubt that my daughter ever will, for she is a singularly blessed and accepting child, delighted with life exactly as life presents itself to her, unafraid to go to sleep and unafraid to wake up. Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss.

I know why we try to keep the dead alive: we try to keep them alive in order to keep them with us. I also know that if we are to live ourselves there comes a point at which we must relinquish the dead, let them go, keep them dead.

We are not idealized wild things. We are imperfect mortal beings, aware of that mortality even as we push it away, failed by our very complication, so wired that when we mourn our losses we also mourn, for better or for worse, ourselves. As we were. As we are no longer. As we will one day not be at all.

I closed the box and put it in a closet. There is no real way to deal with everything we lose.

Sneakiness was a form of privacy and privacy here was the first loss.

Marvin Gaye Music superstar Marvin Gaye was shot to death by his father. In court the father said, "This is probably the worst thing I've ever done." Probably??????

Always there is the one choice to be made: which road to take? which duty to accept? which item, amidst a store's displays, to purchase as our own? The paths of the past parts of our lives are strewn with things not chosen. One believes, nay, one is taught , that choice provides fulfillment of desire. In truth, however, relinquishment and loss enter in to the bargain every single time. Loss looks over the shoulders of fair choice. For every thing one chooses, some thing is left behind.

My arms are empty without you! My heart cries out, lonely in the darkness, but you are not here. No tears shall bring you back into my arms again. My mothers love was not strong enough to keep you, but it is strong enough to follow and find you, though all the mists of Eternity should try to come between!

Adèle Douchett

for what we've had, instead of sadder for what we've lost.

husband George's murder, I'd come to realize that the world is a messy and unpredictable place.

Now me? I don't even own a f**kin' goldfish. At the end of the day, who's got more to lose here? You call me when you're ready to talk.

It suffered and died in translation.

El agua apaga el fuego y al ardor los años, amor se llama el juego en el que un par de ciegos juegan a hacerse daño. y cada vez peor y cada vez mas rotos y cada vez mas tu y cada vez mas yo sin rastro de nosotros.

Le di mis noches y mi pan, mi angustia, mi risa, a cambio de sus besos y su prisa; con ella descubrí que hay amores eternos que duran lo que dura un corto invierno.

En la posada del fracaso, donde no hay consuelo ni ascensor, el desamparo y la humedad comparten colchón y cuando, por la calle, pasa la vida, como un huracán, el hombre del traje gris saca un sucio calendario del bolsillo y grita ¿Quién me ha robado el mes de abril?