Quotes About Loss

And he remembered thinking then that if she died, he was certain he wouldn't cry. For it would be the dying of an unknown, a street face, a newspaper image, and it was suddenly so very wrong that he had begun to cry, not at death but at the thought of not crying at death, a silly empty man near a silly empty woman, while the hungry snake made her still more empty. How do you get so empty? he wondered. Who takes it out of you?

I don't know. We have everything we need to be happy, but we aren't happy. Something's missing. I looked around. The only thing I positively KNEW was gone was the books I'd burned in ten or twelve years. So I thought books might help.

SavaÅŸ kazan?lan bir ÅŸey deÄŸildir Charlie. Sadece her zaman kaybedersin ve en son kaybeden ÅŸartlar? ortaya koyar. Hat?rlad???m her ÅŸey bir sürü kaybediÅŸ, üzüntü ve bittiÄŸinde hiçbir iyi ÅŸeyin olmad???. BittiÄŸi zaman Charles, art?k silahlarla iÅŸiniz kalmad???ndan, bu bile kendi ba??na bir kazan??. ...

And he remembered thinking then that if she died, he was certain he wouldn't cry. For it would be the dying of an unknown, a street face, a newspaper image, and it was suddenly so very wrong that he had begun to cry, not at death but at the thought of not crying at death, a silly empty man near a silly empty woman!!

He was part of us and when he died, all the actions stopped dead and there was no one to do them just the way he did. He was individual. He was an important man. I've never gotten over his death. Often I think what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died. How many jokes are missing from the world, and how many homing pigeons untouched by his hands. He shaped the world. He did things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on.

He shaped the world. He did things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on.

Sentì il sorriso abbandonare la sua faccia, fondersi o ripiegare su se stesso come cera di una candela fantastica che era bruciata troppo a lungo e ora collassava, spenta. Buio, infelicità. Non era un uomo felice, ripeté tra sé. Riconobbe che era questa la verità, indossava la contentezza come una maschera ma adesso la ragazza era scappata, portandola con sé. Non c'era modo di bussare alla sua porta e chiedere che gliela restituisse. Senza

Hiçbir yerde hiç kimsenin kazand???n? an?msam?yorum. SavaÅŸlar kazan?lacak ÅŸeyler deÄŸildir Charlie. Her zaman kaybedersin, son kaybeden de koÅŸullar? belirler. Tüm an?msad???m bir sürü kaybetme ve hüzün, bitmesi d???nda hiçbir ÅŸey iyi olmaz.

That's life for you," said McDunn. "Someone always waiting for someone who never comes home. Always someone loving some thing more than that thing loves them. And after a while you want to destroy whatever that thing is, so it can't hurt you no more.

had begun to cry, not at death but at the thought of not crying at death, a silly empty man

Y a esta enfermedad la llamaban la soledad, porque cuando uno ve que su casa se reduce hasta tener el tamaño de un puño, de una nuez, de una cabeza de alfiler, y luego desaparece detrás de una estela de fuego, uno siente que nunca ha nacido, que no hay ciudades, que uno no está en ninguna parte, y sólo hay espacio alrededor, sin nada familiar, sólo otros hombres extraños.

Pero cómo renunciar a lo que hemos deseado tanto aunque se quede sólo un día y desaparezca, haciendo el vacío más vacío, y las noches oscuras más oscuras y las noches lluviosas más húmedas. Quitarnos esto sería como quitarnos la comida de la boca.

We earth men have a talent for ruining big, beautiful things." – The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury (1950)

Nothing, nothing of it left to hate--not an empty brass gun shell, or a twisted hemp, or a tree, or even a hill of it to hate.

The sound of its death came after.

Et quand il est mort, je me suis aperçu que ce n'était pas lui que je pleurais, mais les choses qu'il faisait.

By the time many people are fourteen or fifteen, they have been divested of their loves, their ancient and intuitive tastes, one by one, until when they reach maturity there is no fun left, no zest, no gusto, no flavor. Others have criticized, and they have criticized themselves, into embarrassment.

And this disease was called The Loneliness, because when you saw your home town dwindle to the size of your fist and then lemon-size and then pin-size and vanish in the fire-wake, you felt you had never been born, there was no town, you were nowhere, with space all around, nothing familiar, only other strange men.

He was part of us and when he died, all the actions stopped dead and there was no one to do them just the way he did. He was individual. He was an important man. I've never gotten over his death. Often I think, what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died. How many jokes are missing from the world, and how many homing pigeons untouched by his hands. He shaped the world. He did things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on.

He was part of us and when he died, all the actions stopped dead and there was no one to do them the way he did. He was individual. He was an important man. I've never gotten over his death. Often I think what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died. How many jokes are missing from the world, and how many homing pigeons untouched by his hands? He shaped the world. He did things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on.

Death makes everything else sad. But death itself only scares. If there wasn't death, all other things wouldn't get tainted.

But how are we to give up the very thing we've wanted, no matter if it stays only a day and is gone, making the emptiness emptier, the dark nights darker, the rainy nights wetter? You might as well force the food from our mouths as take this one from us.

Y cuando murió, comprendí que yo no lloraba por él, sino por todas las cosas que hacía. Lloraba porque nunca volvería a hacerlas.

it was suddenly so very wrong that he had begun to cry, not at death but at the thought of not crying at death, a silly empty man near a silly empty woman, while the hungry snake made her still more empty.