Quotes About Loss

It seems as though the voice of man Will never sound in this place, But only wind from age of stone Is knocking on black gates. It seems to me that I alone Have kept good health under this sky, Because of this, that first I sought To drink the deadly wine. Parting, Evening and slanting, Downward goes my way. Yesterday in love still, "Don't forget" you prayed. Now there's only shepherds' Cry, and glancing winds, And the worried cedars Stand by clear springs.

None of the places where I grew up and live in my youth exist any longer: Tsarskoe Selo, Sevastopol, Kiev, Slepnyovo, Gungerburg (Ust-Narova). The following have survived: Khersones (because it is eternal), Paris - by somebody's oversight, and Petersburg-Leningrad, so that there would be a place to lay my head.

Being loved back by the person he loved to the point where he couldn't cope anymore with the vulnerable reciprocity of giving and receiving, he ended the relationship to get it over with before he lost it

The day Somebody McSomebody put a gun to my breast and called me a cat and threatened to shoot me was the same day the milkman died.

there were sunsets every day, that we weren't meant to be coffined and buried whilst all the time still living, that nothing of the dark was so enormous that never could we surmount it, that always there were new chapters, that we must let go the old, open ourselves to symbolism, to the most unexpected of interpretations, that we must too, uncover what we've kept hidden, what we think we might have lost.

What if we accept these points of light, their translucence, their brightness; what if we let ourselves enjoy this, stop fearing it, get used to it; what if we come to believe in it, to expect it, to be impressed upon by it; what if we take hope and forgo our ancient heritage and instead, and infused, begin to entrain with it, with ourselves then to radiate it; what if we do that, get educated up to that, and then, just like that, the light goes off or is snatched away?

Bilmemkim McBilmemkim'in gö?süme silah dayay?p bana kedi dedi?i ve beni ölümle tehdit etti?i gün, sütçü'nün de öldü?ü gündü.

He'd called her a sparrow. If he made the slightest untoward movement, his wild bird would fly away into the forest and he'd never find her again. And the strangest result of the last days was the certainty that if Miss Philippa Sanders left his life, it would be immeasurably poorer.

And I'd started thinking about my mother's last weeks--the way she'd drifted listlessly about the house in her dressing gown, cigarettes in one hand, glass of something strong-smelling in the other.

Especially if what you can't change on your own got you dumped from one home after another.

The human brain cannot encompass total absence. Like infinity, it is simply not something that the organ runs to. The space someone leaves must be filled, so we dream forever of those who are no longer here. Our minds make them live again.

My father was a doctor,' she says, 'a very kind man. He died in the early '70s, relatively young.' She taps the cigarette packet on the table. 'Of lung cancer.' 'Oh.' 'But the thing about that is,' she says as she exhales, 'it doesn't take very long at all.

Toutes ces bêtises, tous ces remords, et nos bulles de savon à l'enterrement du parrain de Lola... (L'échappée belle, p.37)

Den Kummer dessen, der das Unglück auslöst. Diejenigen, die bleiben, bedauert man, die tröstet man. Aber diejenigen, die gehen?

Wie lange dauert es, bis man den Geruch desjenigen Vergißt, der einen geliebt hat? Und wann hört man selbst auf zu lieben?

M?s vienm?r run?jam par to b?d?m, kuri paliek, bet vai tu jau esi padom?jusi par tiem, kuri aiziet? Par to b?d?m, ar kuriem nelaime atn?k… Palic?ju mums ir ž?l, m?s vi?us mierin?m, bet tos, kuri aiziet? -Bet ko v?l vi?i grib, - es aizsvilos, - kroni? Iedrošinošus v?rdus?!

M?s atst?j?m viens otru klusi, skumji un smagn?ji, nekad nerun?jot par n?kamo reizi. N?, tas bija neizturami. Un, jo vair?k es spurojos pret?, jo vair?k es vi?u m?l?ju, un, jo vair?k es vi?u m?l?ju, jo maz?k tam tic?ju. Es jutos apsteigts, bezsp?c?gs, ar sasiet?m rok?m. Nekust?gs, samierin?jies. -Samierin?jies ar ko? -Ar to, ka k?du dienu zaud?šu vi?u…

I returned to confirm there can be no return.

No home anymore. Nowhere to return. My house is a ruin, a cemetery. You may yearn for the grave, but just try living there.

It was always the same now, the ghost always coming between her and her life in the world, so much more important, since that lost being was still her only companion, and their now-obsolete relationship the one true human contact she would ever have.

There are certain shocks which, if sufficiently strong, seem to have power to destroy the balance of life. Such a shock would seem to overthrow all the intricate, vital, slowly developed mechanism of mind, to plunge the victim into a chaotic half-world of confusion and loss. This is what had happened to Anna.

she had come to him when he was no longer there…because he had not found the young man with the scarred cheek he could not come to her through the glass.

Hell had at least been familiar; she knew that, if she'd been capable of feeling anything, she would have felt afraid of this irresistible force that had picked her up like a scrap of paper and was sweeping her into the void, right out of the world as she knew it, as if whirling her off the earth altogether.

Since he'd gone, the world had become unnervingly strange. There was nothing she could do and nowhere she could go. She felt lost, lonely, dazed, deprived of everything, even of her identity, which was not strong enough to survive without his constant encouragement and reassurance.