Quotes About Loss

Going through a dead parent's memorabilia is a hazardous undertaking; there is a fine line between pleasure and pain.

We know fewer words, and the ones we know are less beautiful. The words we've lost tend to be connotative, and the ones we've gained tend to be denotative. I've never seen modem used in a poem.

Riches, prestige, everything can be lost. But the happiness in your own heart can only be dimmed; it will always be there, as long as you live, to make you happy again.

No one is spared. The sick, the elderly, children, babies, and pregnant women - all marched to their death.

No matter what I'm doing, I cant help thinking about those who are gone. I catch myself laughing and remember that it's a disgrace to be so cheerful... This gloom will pass.

I'm left with one consolation, small though it may be: my fountain pen was cremated, just as I would like to be some day.

unübersehbarer Schaden, schrecklich, entsetzlich, nie zu ersetzen'*

I have the strong feeling that Peter and I aren't really as different as we may seem on the surface, and I'll explain why: neither Peter nor I have a mother.

No matter what I'm doing, I can't help thinking about those who are gone. I catch myself laughing and remember that it's a disgrace to be so cheerful.

Ode to My Fountain Pen In Memoriam My

La riqueza, la fama, todo se puede perder, pero la dicha en el corazón a lo sumo puede velarse, y siempre, mientras vivas, volverá a hacerte feliz.

Riqueza, prestígio, tudo pode ser perdido. A felicidade em seu coração pode ser diminuída; mas estará sempre lá, enquanto você viver, para torná-lo feliz de novo.

Freitag, 20. November 1942 Bei allem, was ich tue, muss ich an die anderen denken, die weg sind. Und wenn ich wegen etwas lachen muss, höre ich erschrocken wieder auf und denke mir, dass es eine Schande ist, so fröhlich zu sein. Aber muss ich denn den ganzen Tag weinen? Nein, das kann ich nicht und sie wird wohl auch wieder vorbeigehen, diese Niedergeschlagenheit.

the dead reseave more flowers than the living for regret is stronger than gratitude

Reichtum, Ansehen, alles kannst du verlieren, aber das Glück deines Herzens kann höchstens einmal verhüllt sein und wird dich doch immer aufs neue Glücklich machen, solange du lebst. Solange du ohne Furcht zum Himmel aufsehen kannst, solange weißt du, dass du reinen Herzens bist, und das Glück wird immer mit dir sein.

Grief, as I read somewhere once, is a lazy Susan. One day it is heavy and underwater, and the next day it spins and stops at loud and rageful, and the next day at wounded keening, and the next day numbness, silence.

But what if the great secret insider-trading truth is that you don't ever get over the biggest losses in your life? Is that good news, bad news, or both? . . . . The pain does grow less acute, but the insidious palace lie that we will get over crushing losses means that our emotional GPS can never find true north, as it is based on maps that no longer mention the most important places we have been to. Pretending that things are nicely boxed up and put away robs us of great riches.

If you haven't already, you will lose someone you can't live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and you never completely get over the loss of a deeply beloved person. But this is also good news. The person lives forever, in your broken heart that doesn't seal back up. And you come through, and you learn to dance with the banged-up heart.

it speaks of such integrity to refuse to pretend that you're doing well just to help other people deal with the fact that sometimes we face an impossible loss.

All these years I fell for the great palace lie that grief should be gotten over as quickly as possible and as privately. But what I've discovered since is that lifelong fear of grief keeps us in a barren, isolated place and that only grieving can heal grief; the passage of time will lessen the acuteness, but time alone, without the direct experience of grief, will not heal it.

Grief ends up giving you the two best things: softness and illumination.

I've spent my whole life trying to get over having had Nikki for a mother, and I have to say that from day one after she died, I liked having a dead mother much more than having an impossible one. [p. 47]

I understood that the man I was calling for could never ever come back. Because I understood that the man that I was calling for was dead.

The pain does grow less acute, but the insidious palace lie that we will get over crushing losses means that our emotional GPS can never find true north, as it is based on maps that no longer mention the most important places we have been to.