Quotes About Loss

Bog, kom se služilo poljupcima, mrtav je sada!

It is as if I am an old man who sees all the friends of his childhood dying around him and who thinks his own death at hand.

To be reincarnated in a stone or a speck of dust – my soul weeps with this yearning. I'm losing my taste for everything, including even my taste for finding everything tasteless.

To find one's personality by losing it — faith itself subscribes to that sense of destiny.

Adeus, Ophelinha. Durma e coma, e não perca gramas.

Indifferent to this, and grieving only as much as he needs to and for as little time as possible — over the death of a son, for example, whom he will forget as the years pass, except on his birthday; over the loss of money, which he mourns until he gets some more or becomes used to the loss — humanity continues digesting and loving. Life recovers and carries on. The dead are buried. Losses forgotten.

A-Å£i g?si perosnalitatea în faptul de a o pierde,chiar ÅŸi credinÅ£a confirm? acest înÅ£eles al destinului.

A Decadência é a perda total da inconsciência; porque a inconsciência é o fundamento da vida. O coração, se pudesse pensar, pararia.

Ah, my dead childhood! A corpse ever alive in my breast!

More things have died in me than just my past.

The weariness caused by all illusions and all that they entail – our losing them, the uselessness of our having them, the pre-weariness of having to have them in order to lose them, the regret of having had them, the intellectual chagrin of having had them while knowing full well they would end.

What I was and will never be again! What I had and will never have again!

Since I cannot live without affection, why was that affection taken from me?

The beauty of ruins? That they're no longer good for anything.

Não se pode comer um bolo sem o perder.

Outros haverão de ter O que houvermos de perder. Outros poderão achar O que, no nosso encontrar, Foi achado, ou não achado, Segundo o destino dado.

To possess is to be possessed, and therefore to lose oneself.

As She Passes When I am sitting at the window, Through the panes, which the snow blurs, I see the lovely images, hers, as She passes ... passes ... passes by ... Over me grief has thrown its veil:- Less a creature in this world And one more angel in the sky. When I am sitting at the window, Through the panes, which the snow blurs, I think I see the image, hers, That's not now passing ... not passing by ...

O malmequer que arrancaste Deu-te nada no seu fim, Mas o amor que me arrancaste, Se deu nada, foi a mim.

El amor más grande es, por tanto, la muerte o el olvido, o la renuncia, todos los amores que son otros tantos absurdiandos del amor.

que pesa duramente na alma: é a estupidez que sacrifica vidas e haveres a qualquer coisa inevitavelmente inútil.

The everyday external things of the one who died

La Decadencia es la pérdida total de la inconsciencia, pues la inconsciencia es el fundamento de la vida. Si el corazón pudiera pensar, se detendría.

The Irish Times ran an editorial in 1956, full of dark intimations that the Irish would become like other indigenous peoples who had lost out in the Darwinian struggle for survival: 'What matters is that we will disappear as a composite race. We will add our name or names to those of the races that assimilate us; but as an entity, we will cease to exist.