Quotes About Loss

He has made me lucid and sane, and I am suffering cruelly from the loss of my imaginary life.

Every disconnection is death.

I do not hold on now. I live openly, ready for the pain, the separations and losses. I am not holding on. Open and free, sad at moments, but knowing the deep joys are worth all that follows. Deep joys. One must be willing to suffer, to surrender.

If in a dream I could break down and sob so bitterly when I meet my daughter it is only because I know, even in the dream, that I cannot really have her. When one lets so many years intervene one gets only ghosts.

Send for the doctor! I need a medicine man who will solder my body and soul together, which splits at every separation. The doctor says it is the flu. He cannot see the body is empty, the fire is gone, I am king without kingdom, and artist without a home, a stranger to luxury, to power, to bigness, to comfort. I lost a world, a small human world of love and friendship. I am not adventurer, I miss my home, familiar streets, those I love and know well.

So illusion is delusion, and I have been Don Quixote, and nothing that I loved or dreamed existed. I am empty-handed now, a woman with an aching body. Lost. Weeping. Weeping. Saying yes to the analyst like a child.

Elena) Algo criara dentro dela um estado de perpétua defesa contra as possibilidades de experiência, um impulso de fugir que a retirava das cenas de prazer onde poderia se expandir. Por muitas vezes atingira esse limiar, mas fugira. E só podia culpar a si própria pelo que perdera e ignorara.

The man who was once starved may revenge himself upon the world not by stealing just once, or by stealing only what he needs, but by taking from the world an endless toll in payment of something irreplaceable, which is the lost faith.

Mountains have the power to call us into their realms and there, left forever, are our friends whose great souls were longing for the heights. Do not forget the mountaineers who have not returned from the summits.

If you needed anything, all you had to do was say, 'Mom, I need this,' and my mom would be at my house with it," she says, crying. "And now it's like, if I need something, who do I call?

That's the thing about suicide. Try as you might to remember how a person lived his life, you always end up thinking about how he ended it.

There is no good that comes from the storm, no silver lining, no Hollywood ending. Death descends. Lives are lost.

I've often thought of loss as a kind of language. Once learned, it's never forgotten. I learned the language of loss when I was ten, and still know it to this day. There have been times when I wished I had a scar or a mark, a visible sign of the pain I still feel over Daddy's death and Carter's. It would be easier, in a way, if people knew without my having to say anything that I am not whole, that part of me died long ago.

You're not dead, but you're not alive, either. You're a wintergirl, Lia-Lia, caught in between the worlds. You're a ghost with a beat- ing heart. Soon you'll cross the border and be with me. I'm so stoked. I miss you wicked.

Oh, I thought, without a doubt, everything in my life is falling to pieces. Nothing that my hand grasps can my hand hold.

The deeper the soul plunges into religious religious devotion, the more it loses all sense of reality, all need, all desire, all love for reality.

The deeper the soul plunges into religious devotion, the more it loses all sense of reality, all need, all desire, all love for reality.

toda alegría es semejante al maná del desierto, que se corrompe de un día a otro; es semejante al agua de la fuente Ameles que, según cuenta Platón, no podía conservarse en ningún vaso... ¡Que cada instante se lleve lo que nos trajo!

What did he think? That time moved forward? No, for the good times it slipped out of your hands like water, but when things went wrong time stopped. It stopped and stared at you and never took its eyes away from what you'd done. I hope they hurt you in there. If you come looking for Susan, you will be sorry.

Kelson winced. "We lost seven good men in the last fight." "Good men die the same as bad ones," Storm said. "Maybe more often. They'll risk more to do what's right.

and I longed for the rock isles and algae pools of my own land. We are part of our homes and I think there will always be a feeling of loss and ache within when we cannot long actively communicate with our own special places.

On dit souvent que la mort est 'ne libiration. Pour les morts, naturellement, passque en fait pour ceux qui restent, c'est presque toujours un grandissime tracassin.

God exacted interest like a loanshark, you paid and kept paying and still He broke all yr bones, one Yom Kippur, at the beginning of her 30th year, God had written her name once again in the book of loss, Bertha Schneider, let her lose everything, God had written in that pedestrian prose of His. rub it in, pile it on, and let her eat cake, the kind wrapped in plastic, God had scratched in the margin.

The loss is hers. Let her remain in this ugly world, full of diseased and soulless people. While I and the true goddesses soar to Mount Olympus. That's the greatest punishment I can impose on her, after all.