Quotes About Loss

Perhaps it would have been better if he had killed me; my life is spoilt.

feeling as if all the happiness and support of their lives was about to be taken from them.

Poor Buttercup was not in a very good mood; for she had been lately bereft of her calf, and mourned for the little thing most dismally. Just now she regarded all mankind as her enemies (and I do not blame her), so when the matadore came prancing towards her with the red handkerchief flying at the end of his long lance, she threw up her head, and gave a most appropriate Moo!.

She doesn't look like my Beth, and there's nobody to help us bear it. Mother and father both gone, and God seems so far away I can't find Him.

They were not all there. But no one found the words thoughtless or untrue; for Beth still seemed among them, a peaceful presence, invisible, but dearer than ever, since death could not break the household league that love made dissoluble.

Tell me how you do it, Marmee dear. My good mother used to help me... As you do us... interrupted Jo, with a grateful kiss. But I lost her when I was a little older than you are

She felt as if she had stabbed her dearest friend, and when he left her without a look behind him, she knew that the boy Laurie never would come again.

The good and dear people always do die.

Better lose your life than your soul, and one such passion leads to worse sins

We mourn the loss of our little pet, And sigh o'er her hapless fate, For never more by the fire she'll sit, Nor play by the old green gate.

You've had the scarlet fever, haven't you? Years ago, when Meg did. Why? Then I'll tell you. Oh, Jo, the baby's dead! What baby? Mrs. Hummel's. It died in my lap before she got home, cried Beth with a sob.

I haven't got any mother, you know.

So, sitting at the dear little piano, Beth softly touched the keys, and in the sweet voice they had never thought to hear again, sang to her own accompaniment the quaint hymn, which was a singularly fitting song for her.

Las personas buenas y muy queridas son las que mueren siempre.

Grief is the best opener of some hearts

With tears and prayers and tender hands, Mother and sisters made her ready for the long sleep that pain would never mar again, seeing with grateful eyes the beautiful serenity that soon replaced the pathetic patience that had wrung their hearts so long, and feeling with reverent joy that to their darling death was a benignant angel, not a phantom full of dread.

As Beth had hoped, the tide went out easily and in the dark hour before the dawn on the bosom where she had drawn her first breath, she quietly drew her last, with no farewell but one loving look, one little sigh.

Por Dios no lo gasto, el dinero se va solo sin que haga nada, desaparece sin que yo sepa como.

When he had gone, she went to her little chapel, and sitting in the twilight, prayed for Beth, with streaming tears and an aching heart, feeling that a million turquoise rings would not console her for the loss of her little sister

No sabes cuánto! Lo intento, pero cada día pierdo un poco más de fuerza y comprendo que no la recuperaré jamás. Es como una marea, Jo; cuando crece, va lenta, pero es imparable. —Pues debemos pararla. Tu marea no puede crecer ahora, eres demasiado joven, ¡sólo tienes diecinueve años! Beth, no puedo dejarte marchar...

Now, Laurie felt just then that his heart was entirely broken and the world a howling wilderness, but at the sound of certain words which the old gentleman artfully introduced into his closing sentence, the broken heart gave an unexpected leap, and a green oasis or two suddenly appeared in the howling wilderness.

The effects of moving are experienced in the body, in the imagination, in the realm of desire. What the eye sees, what the body feels, what the heart yearns for, what remains and what has been lost -- these are difficult at first to describe.

We passed over in a sweep of sorrow that would persist into our small forever. We just keep going.

Grandpa's mind had left us, gone wild and wary. When I walked with him I could feel how strange it was. His thoughts swam between us, hidden under rocks, disappearing in weeds, and I was fishing for them, dangling my own words like baits and lures.