Quotes About Loss

A britek, jövök rá, csak akkor temetnek el valakit, amikor már annyira halott, hogy más szót kell rá használni. A britek addig várnak a temetéssel, hogy a rokonok nem is gyászolni gy?lnek össze, hanem panaszkodni, hogy még mindig ott van a tetem.

I get out of the car to look at it. 1922–1989

Pen-bereavement is a serious matter.

What kind of parents are you? You lost one son, but you threw the other away.

Grief is a normal and natural response to loss. It is originally an unlearned feeling process. Keeping grief inside increases your pain.

He'd forgotten the most important condition that made it possible for him to go on living: that he should never again grow fond of anyone

I am the woman I grew to be partly in spite of my mother, and partly because of the extraordinary love of her best friends, and my own best friends' mothers, and from surrogates, many of whom were not women at all but gay men. I have loved them my entire life, even after their passing.

Most of me was glad when my mother died. She was a handful, but not in a cute, festive way. More in a life-threatening way, that had caused me a long time ago to give up all hope of ever feeling good about having had her as a mother.

You will lose someone you can't live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn't seal back up. And you come through. It's like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.

Shutter all the windows, bar the door - Pain is what a house is for. Close your eyes when other eyes beseech, turn away from arms that reach. There is no commitment without cost - nothing is loved but can be lost. Better not to meet than have to part - there is no armor for the heart. But always light seeps in through cracks, and dust. No house is built that you can trust, So you may wake one day to find you care a little too much for a chair.

There's a moment when love makes you believe in death for the first time. You recognize the one whose loss, even contemplated, you'll carry forever, like a sleeping child. All grief, anyone's grief...is the weight of a sleeping child.

The dead leave us starving with mouths full of love." from "Memoriam

Anyone who has lost a love to death can tell you about that fall. You wake from a hard-won sleep and be there warm and groggy and consider engaging the day. And then you remember. Half of you is not there, and never will be again. The person who focused all the disparate parts of you into a whole is gone. The agony is too much; you almost welcome the great slide ahead of you. But there is no oblivion in it. Only blackness and an endless well of red pain.

Grief is in two parts. The first is loss. The second is the remaking of life.

Death's in the good-bye.

Take your foot out of the graveyard, they are busy being dead.

You who have inhabited me in the deepest and most broken place, are going, going

God went out of me as if the sea dried up like sandpaper, as if the sun became a latrine. God went out of my fingers. They became stone. My body became a side of mutton and despair roamed the slaughterhouse.

Now he is gone as you are gone. But he belongs to me like lost baggage.

I'd won the world but like a forsaken explorer, I'd lost my map.

I am, to be sure, afraid that if you knew me that you wouldn't love me. But this must be faced…I fear it in any relationship. Thus I am perhaps afraid to reveal facts about things…or to say too much for fear if I make too much noise you'll drift away, pull down the shade of your ivory tower…and after that. Afraid, I guess, that I'll loose you…I keep losing people.

He said loudly 'I am not dying' and I said 'for me you are.

I refuse to remember the dead. And the dead are bored with the whole thing. But you - you go ahead, go on, go back down, into the graveyard, lie down where you think their faces are; talk back to your old bad dreams.

I am going to lose myself – or else, the chance is that poetry will save me.