Quotes About Loss

The despair among the loveless is that they must narcoticize themselves before they can touch any human being at all. They, then, fatally, touch the wrong person, not merely because they have gone blind, or have lost the sense of touch, but because they no longer have any way of knowing that any loveless touch is a violation, whether one is touching a woman or a man.

We lie and cover up our sins and mute the traumas they cause. We dissociate the trauma from our national self-understanding and locate it, if at all, in the ungrateful cries of grievance and victimization among those who experienced the pain and loss.

He wasn't going to be alone after she died, but the world was going to be a lonelier place without her.

Deep in earth my love is lying And I must weep alone.

The happiest day—the happiest hourMy sear'd and blighted heart hath known,The highest hope of pride and power,I feel hath flown.

The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world.

I am Anne Rutledge who sleep beneath these weeds,Beloved in life of Abraham Lincoln.

The snows and the roses of yesterday are vanished; And what is love but a rose that fades?

Viandante, amare è ritrovare la propria anima traverso l'anima dell'amato. Quando l'amato se ne stacca, allora tu l'hai perduta. È scritto: "Ho un amico, ma il mio dolore non ha amici".

I sat under my cedar tree. My mate, the mother of them, was taken- I sat under my cedar tree, Till ninety years were tolled. O maternal Earth, which rocks the fallen leaf to sleep!

Accepting the loss of a loved one is difficult. But reconciling with the living is just as important.

Zane," I whispered breathlessly, knowing it was wrong, but powerless to stop myself. "If things were different... if you were alive... and I was alive-" "Yes," he said immediately, interrupting me. He leaned in closer. His voice was no more than a whisper. "Absolutely, yes. Don't ever doubt it, Kail.

One day I wrote her name upon the strand, But came the waves and washèd it away: Again I wrote it with a second hand, But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.

Poets lose half the praise they should have got,Could it be known what they discreetly blot.

My mother died when I was 18. Up until then, I never saw a tin can in my house. (Washington Post interview, 1990)

Love . . . is like nature, but in reverse; first it fruits, then it flowers, then it seems to wither, then it goes deep, deep down into its burrow, where no one sees it, where it is lost from sight, and ultimately people die with that secret buried inside their souls.

Money talks, but tell me why all it says is just Goodbye.

I knew I had done something awful. I had killed love, before I even knew the enormity of what love meant.

In our village back home, marriages were always between people who had known each other their whole lives. And all the boys I had known were dead. So I thought I would never get married. I thought I could never marry someone I hadn't known from when I was a child.

Death devours all lovely things;Lesbia with her sparrowShares the darkness—presentlyEvery bed is narrow.

I only know that summer sang in meA little while, that in me sings no more.

It's not love's going hurts my days But that it went in little ways.

Cut if you will with sleep's dull knife The years from off your life, my friend! The years that death takes off my life, He'll take from off the other end!

Listen, children: Your father is dead. From his old coats I'll make you little jackets; I'll make you little trousers From his old pants. There'll be in his pockets Things he used to put there, Keys and pennies Covered with tobacco; Dan shall have the pennies To save in his bank; Anne shall have the keys To make a pretty noise with. Life must go on, Though good men die; Anne, eat your breakfast; Dan, take your medicine; Life must go on; I forget just why.