Quotes About Loss

Maximus said, "They have no tombstones. Not one man in Treverorum wept for their passing." he looked at his audience in turn and smiled. "In the name of Mithras, my master, may the gods be kind to you on your journey.

We must be reconciled, for what we left behind us can never be ours again.

Home was a curious thing, like happiness. You never knew you had had it until it was gone.

You can't be close to the mortality of friends without being brought to think of your own.

Closing up the canyon camp was like closing up a house after a death. ("It is easier to die than to move," she wrote Augusta once; "at least for the Other Side you don't need trunks.")

within yourself, you became a grave for her as you were a grave for Chet, and you carried your dead unquietly within you. —

Home is a notion that only the nations the of homeless fully appreciate and only the uprooted comprehend. What else would one plant in a wilderness or on a frontier? What loss would hurt more?

Across the intersection he could see the crumbling blue-green facade of the Palace Amusements building, the grinning ten-foot-high face on its north wall smiling out on empty streets and vacant lots. The arcade entrances were covered with plywood; broken neon tubing hung from the walls. He thought of the hours he had spent there as a kid, playing pinball, firing the real .22s in the shooting gallery, riding the bumper cars. It hurt to look at it now.

The greatest griefs are silent.

She touched me once And life then stopped. She held my hand, My frog heart hopped. She left my mouth And formed a smile With lips that promised: "In a while." I look, I hope, I stand, a dunce— Where is the one who touched me once?

Bad things do happen; how I respond to them defines my character and the quality of my life. I can choose to sit in perpetual sadness, immobilized by the gravity of my loss, or I can choose to rise from the pain and treasure the most precious gift I have – life itself.

I can choose to sit in perpetual sadness, immobilized by the gravity of my loss, or I can choose to rise from the pain and treasure the most precious gift I have - life itself

Separation penetrates the disappearing person like a pigment and steeps him in gentle radiance.

One Way to think of the market ideology and the empire is that it produces alienation and loss of human vitality. The culture flows from the assumption that the accumulation of commodities will make us safe and happy.

The dominant ideology of our culture is committed to continuity and success and to the avoidance of pain, hurt, and loss. The dominant culture is also resistant to genuine newness and real surprise. It is curious but true, that surprise is as unwelcome as is loss. And our culture is organized to prevent the experience of both.

In a society that knows about initiative and self-actualization and countless other things, the capacity to lament the death of the old world is nearly lost. In a society strong on self-congratulation, the capacity to receive in doxology the new world being given is nearly lost.

Lament is the loss of true kingship, whereas doxology is the faithful embrace of the true king and the rejection of all the phony ones.

I want to say that probably 24 hours after I told CBS that I was stepping down at my 65th birthday, I was already regretting it. And I regretted it every day since.

Nought but vast sorrow was there—The sweet cheat gone.

Away There is no sorrow Time heals never; No loss, betrayal, Beyond repair. Balm for the soul, then, Though grave shall sever Lover from loved And all they share. See the sweet sun shines The shower is over; Flowers preen their beauty, The day how fair! Brood not too closely On love, on duty; Friends long forgotten May wait you where Life with death Brings all to an issue; None will long mourn for you, Pray for you, miss you, Your place left vacant, You not there.

On the streets of the city They have taken my Who-I-Am As well as my What-I-Was And now I am desperate for them both Again

The night was a magnificent confirmation of "women and children first," yet somehow the loss rate was higher for Third Class children than First Class men.

Mrs. George Widener was met not by automobile but by a special train—consisting of a private Pullman, another car for ballast, and a locomotive.

Grosse lacrime cominciarono a scorrermi sulla faccia e mi sforzai di convincermi che era solo una questione di nervi. E invece piangevo per la tristezza di dover constatare che il tempo sfugge a tutti noi e non si lascia alle spalle altro che immagini sempre più pallide.