Quotes About Loss

It takes a lifetime to make a friend, but you can lose one in an hour," she recites. "Life without a friend is life without sun. Life without a friend is death.

Could love be strong enough to outlast death not once but three times?

I know I'm the most precious person in my family, but I wasn't precious enough for my birth family to keep me as their one child.

We can't hold on to anyone or anything, you know. We lose everything except that which we carry within us.

I thought about my brother. I hated him. Hated him like a child hates a fallen hero. I hated him for his unlimited potential and his failure to realize it. I hated him because I could see everything that was wonderful about him, how brilliant, how beautiful he was, and how he had turned his back on everything he could have been, cast it off like a designer suit for which he'd paid an obscene sum and never wore.

There was something eternal about loss, something endless. You could always lose the things you had, but you couldn't always get back the things you lost.

Kindness, I think, comes from learning hard lessons well, from falling and picking yourself up. It comes from surviving failure and loss. It implies an understanding of the human condition, forgives its many flaws and quirks.

When someone we love dies suddenly and tragically, it's like seeing the curvature of the earth. You always knew it was round, a contained sphere floating in space. But when you see the bend in the horizon line, it changes your perspective on everything else.

A word I read comes to mind: solastalgia, a miserable tangle of solace, desolation, and nostalgia.

things disappear and are never found simply because there's too much ground to cover.

Something about her called away a piece of him, and it floated through the air and she breathed it in, and it was forever lost to her.

When my father died, I waited for a haunting. I prayed for one. But he never came; I think he would have if he could.

counseling. She said that grief is not linear. It's not a slow progression forward toward healing, it's a zigzag, a terrible back-and-forth from devastated to okay until finally there are more okay patches and fewer devastated ones.

feel like when my mother died, she took with her the Mia I saw when she looked at me. I could never find that girl in my own reflection. To Mom, I was special—bright, powerful, beautiful—her angel. To the rest of the world, I was just a girl. Small for my age, shy, passingly pretty, smart enough. Just Mia.

I know she was in love with a ghost. She was haunted, waiting for that man to come home to her and rescue her from the one he had become.

What a lot we lost when we stopped writing letters. You can't reread a phone call.

The thought of losing him again kills me. This is of course a figure of speech, I will remain alive, but I will not know happiness.

For a second, I see into the future: she's old and grey, she has senile dementia and can't remember my name. The thought pretty much breaks my heart in two.

A shade of sorrow passed over Taliesin's face. 'There are those,' he said gently, 'who must first learn loss, despair, and grief. Of all paths to wisdom, this is the cruelest and longest. Are you one who must follow such a way? This even I cannot know. If you are, take heart nonetheless. Those who reach the end do more than gain wisdom. As rough wool becomes cloth, and crude clay a vessel, so do they change and fashion wisdom for others, and what they give back is greater than what they won.

He was a great poet They lamented. No, he was not a great poet, said Theo, He was a good poet, he could have been better. That's the real loss don't you see?

Each day of war takes us farther from all we could hope to be or do. We gain nothing but heartbreak, and lose everything we cherish. Our lives erode and diminish, our children see no future except a calendar of anguish and death. Our only hope for tomorrow is for peace now.

There are those," he said gently, "who must first learn loss, despair, and grief. Of all paths to wisdom, this is the cruelest and longest. Are you one who must follow such a way? This even I cannot know. If you are, take heart nonetheless. Those who reach the end do more than gain wisdom. As rough wool becomes cloth, and crude clay a vessel, so do they change and fashion wisdom for others, and what they give back is greater than what they won.

Had I done it sooner, perhaps he might have lived. He was a man of courage and good heart, a proud man. Now he is dead. I saved the signal to use in a worthy cause, and when I found one it was wasted." "Wasted?" answered Fflewddur. "I think not. Since you did your best and didn't begrudge using it, I shouldn't call it wasted at all.

It's hard to give up the being together with someone.