Quotes About Loss

There are some kinds of sorrow that words can never reach, certain kinds of things you can never hold in the box of your thoughts, certain kinds of pain you can't soften in other people.

At long last I came to the breakthrough point, the surrender. I realized that her life, and my fury, were truly over. She was gone, and if I really loved her, I owed it to her to ensure that her passing would bear spiritual fruit in my life. For that to happen, I would have to let go. The relief was profound. There was nothing left to do.

Along with the loss of the sense of self has gone a loss of our language for communicating deeply personal meanings to each other.

il fallait séparer nos souffles, s'écarter, s'espacer, se lever, se dédoubler, et c'est toujours autant de perdu. Quand on a deux corps, il vient des moments où l'on est à moitié. - Est-ce que je suis envahissante? - Terriblement, lorsque tu n'es pas là.

La vie est pavée d'occasions perdues.

No doubt about it: numbers are the future. The world's been learning to count since the days of chivalry ended and it's only going to get worse. We're about to witness the end of everything that isn't quantifiable—honor, for example.

To Americans the idea of a problem without a solution is insupportable; and any direct encounter with the "human condition", that is, the inevitability of loss and defeat, sends them scurrying off to psychiatrists or on a frantic pursuit of power, money, world records.

For centuries those people were hunters, and now hunting has been taken away from them, without anything taking its place. When you separate people from their past without giving them anything in its place, they live with their eyes on that past . . . They're not the ones to blame.

Ryléiev foi executado aos 31 anos. Aos 36, Bátiuchkov enlouquece. Aos 22 morre Venetínov, e aos 32 Diélvig. Aos 34, Griboiédov é assassinado, Púchkin aos 37 e Liérmontov aos 26. Suas mortes foram caracterizadas mais de uma vez como formas de suicídio. O próprio Maiakóvski comparava seu combate contra a vida cotidiana aos duelos de Púchkin e Liérmontov.

It's not that we have to quit this life one day, but it's how many things we have to quit all at once: music, laughter, the physics of falling leaves, automobiles, holding hands, the scent of rain, the concept of subway trains... if only one could leave this life slowly!

It's not that we have to quit this life one day, it's how many things we have to quit all at once: holding hands, hotel rooms, music, the physics of falling leaves, vanilla and jasmine, poppies, smiling, anthills, the color of the sky, coffee and cashmere, literature, sparks and subway trains... If only one could leave this life slowly!

Our lips were for each other and our eyes were full of dreams. We knew nothing of travel and we knew nothing of loss. Ours was a world of eternal spring, until the summer came.

I've seen knives pierce the chest, Children dying in the road Crawling things hooked and baited, Rapists bound and then castrated, Villains singed in public square. Yet none these sights did make me cringe Like when my Love cut all her hair.

I've seen daggers pierce the chest, Children dying in the road, Crawling things hooked and baited, Rapists bound and then castrated, Villains singed in public square. Yet none these sights did make me cringe Like when my Love cut all her hair.

Whilst the wolflets bayed, A grave was made, And then with the strokes of a silver spade, It was filled to make a mound. And for two cold days and three long nights, The father tended that holy plot; And stayed by where his wife was laid, In the grave within the ground.

I thought of the fifteen years I lived 'sans papiers' in France and how Paris had belonged to me. I was like a king in France. And now that suddenly I was French, Paris was gone for me. I had abdicated the throne the French people had given to me. All those people were gone. The whole city had changed. I left for five years: three spent wandering in Europe, while two years I spent living in Muslim Morocco; and now Paris had changed and there was no going back.

Every artist wants his work to be permanent. But what is The Aswan Dam covered some of the greatest art in the world. Venice is sinking. Great books and pictures were lost in the Florence floods. In the meantime we still enjoy butterflies.

The public has lost faith in the ability of Social Security and Medicare to provide for old age. They've lost faith in the banking system and in conventional medical insurance.

After the death of John Laurens, Hamilton shut off some compartment of his emotions and never reopened it.

I think that when a somebody dies, there ought to be a process where everything about them, like bills and taxes, stops. They don´t even slow down. As a matter of fact, they seem to come quicker and louder.

99 percent of every beautiful thing you ever knew escaped and went back out into the world where you vaguely remembered it.

Death and loss Perhaps you are depressed because you have lost someone. You need to know Jesus said He came to comfort all those who mourn in Zion. He came with the oil of gladness. Understand this: there is nothing wrong with legitimate mourning. If you have had a death in your family, you are not demon possessed or

Don't love anything that can be taken away.

What made losing someone you loved bearable was not remembering but forgetting. Forgetting small things first... it's amazing how much you could forget, and everything you forgot made that person less alive inside you until you could finally endure it. After more time passed you could let yourself remember, even want to remember. But even then what you felt those first days could return and remind you the grief was still there, like old barbed wire embedded in a tree's heartwood.