Quotes About Loss

And all that talk about the breakup being good for us- who am I trying to fool? I'm cut loose, untethered, not belonging to anything or anybody.

Even though I did not understand her entire story, I understood her grief. In one small moment we had both lost the world, and there was no way to get it back.

It's not that we had no heart or eyes for pain. We were all afraid. We all had our miseries. But to despair was to wish back for something already lost. Or to prolong what was already unbearable.

Thank you, Little Queen. Then you must teach my daughter this same lesson. How to lose your innocence but not your hope. How to laugh forever.

Fate is shaped half by expectation, half by inattention. But somehow, when you lose something you love, faith takes over. You have to pay attention to what you lost. You have to undo the expectation.

And I think now that fate is shaped half by expectation, half by inattention. But somehow, when you lose something you love, faith takes over. You have to pay attention to what you lost. You have to undo the expectation.

No es que fuéramos unas desalmadas insensibles al dolor. Todas estábamos atemorizadas, todas teníamos que sobrellevar nuestras desgracias, pero desesperar era tanto como desear algo que ya estaba perdido o prolongar lo que ya era de por sí insoportable.

That is the saddest part when you lose someone you love—that person keeps changing. And later you wonder, Is this the same person I lost? Maybe you lost more, maybe less, ten thousand different things that come from your memory or imagination—and you do not know which is which, which was true, which is false.

Sí, vi los signos, pero me limité a dejar que las cosas sucedieran. Y pienso que el destino está formado a medias por las expectativas y a medias por la falta de atención. Pero, de algún modo, cuando pierdes algo que amas, interviene la fe. Tienes que prestar atención a lo que has perdido. Tienes que deshacer la expectativa.

We're not gonna know who we are as people until we've faced crises or loss, or when we have inexhaustible hope. Why do we hope? Why don't we give up? Who gives up?

Where did he go when he left us? I spied the new journal he had started using just last week and held it against my chest. This was who he was. But it also was not. It was sad and beautiful knowledge that a person cannot be found elsewhere but in his own spirit. No one could possess it.

Lust leaves you blind long after you've lost your mind in bed.

Fate once made you American. Fate took it away.

Grief is when your eyes still see but have stopped looking.

I remind myself that I know the difference between elusion and delusion. It is the separation between desire and belief. I know what separates the past from the present. What lies between then and now, it is but a moment, an easy thing to lose.

If people we love die, then they are lost only to our ordinary senses. If we remember, we can find them anytime with our hundred secret senses. "This a secret

In my childhood diary I wrote: "I have decided that it is better not to love anyone, because when you love people, then you have to be separated from them, and that hurts too much.

I wept because I could not believe anymore and I love to believe. I can still love passionately without believing. That means I love humanly. I wept because from now on I will weep less. I wept because I have lost my pain and I am not yet accustomed to its absence.

So many broken promises, each day an aborted wish, a lost object, a misplaced unread book, cluttering the room like an attic with discarded possessions.

I am caught. And he? What does he feel? I am invaded, I lose everything, my mind vacillates, I am only aware of sensation.

Nothing seems true today except the death of the goldfish who used to make love at ninety kilometers an hour in the pool. The maid has given him a Christian burial. To the worms! To the worms!

I am a woman first of all. At the core of my work was a journal written for the father I lost, loved and wanted to keep. I am personal. I am essentially human, not intellectual. I do not understand abstract act. Only art born of love, passion, pain.

Now, his hair is white and he no longer understands anyone's need to love, for he has lost everything, not to love, but to his games of love; and when you love as a game, you lose everything, as he lost his home and wife, and now he clings to me, afraid of loss, afraid of solitude.

I wept because from now on I will weep less. I wept because I have lost my pain and I am not yet accustomed to its absence.