Quotes About Loss

The second you walk off down that road I'll start telling myself you're gone for good, and why wouldn't you be, and I'll start trying to hate you for it. I will hate you for it. I might even leave here entirely.

It seemed to me that what perished need not also be lost.

Sylvie did not want to lose me. She did not want me to grow gigantic and multiple, so that I seemed to fill the whole house, and she did not wish me to turn subtle and miscible, so that I could pass through the membranes that separate dream and dream. She did not wish to remember me. She much preferred my simple, ordinary presence, silent and ungainly though I might be

What use was there in calling a day by a certain name, or thinking of it as anything but weather? They knew what time of the year it was when the timothy bloomed, when the birds were fledging. They knew it was morning when the sun came up. What more was there to know? If Doll was going to be lost forever, Lila wanted to be right there with her, holding to the skirt of her dress. She had

When someone remarked in his hearing that he had lost an eye in the Civil War, he said "I prefer to remember that I have kept one.

qu'arriverait-il si l'homme qui prétendait être son mari se détournait de Lila? Rien. Et s'il n'y avait finalement pas d'enfant? Il y aurait un soir et un matin. Le silence du monde lui faisait aussi mal que s'il se moquait ouvertement d'elle.

A society that doesn't know any longer how to observe every death with proper rituals, that does not know that death is not the end, but only part of the journey, has lost its way, has had the very heart of its humanity torn out.

When they come... they come at what you love.

Softly, reassuringly, he comforted his friend, as they waited for death together. As if the Don could truly snatch the life of Genco Abbandando back from that most foul and criminal traitor to man.

men in general sooner forget the lost their matrimony than the death of their father

V?riešiem sekss vajadz?gs, lai sagatavotos doties kauj? ar pašapzi?u. Sieviet?m sekss vajadz?gs zaud?juma b?du remd?šanai vai k? da?a no uzvaras gandar?juma.

had voided itself.

Ah, Sicily, Sicily, he thought, you destroy your best and bring them to dust.

Éramos más que enamorados, Gee. Hermanos, cómplices. Las dos caras de una moneda. Así de unidos. Tú fuiste muchas cosas para mí. La madre que perdí a los nueve años. Los amigos que nunca tuve. Contigo me sentí siempre mejor que con mis propios hermanos. Me dabas confianza, seguridad en la vida, alegría.

Ni en la guerra debe haber muertos inutiles. Usted me entiende, vaya al colegio y trate en el futuro de que la muerte del cadete Arana sirve para algo.

Van a morir muchos pero no hay que llorar, la muerte es dicha para el buen creyente.

Per colpa sua, le illusioni che fanno dell'esistenza qualcosa di più d'una somma di cose routinarie, si erano spente. A tratti, mi sentivo un vecchio.

There are people whose deaths make you ache with sadness. And then there are people whose deaths prevent the sun from rising, deaths that turn the walls black in every room you walk through, deaths that send storm clouds and a wail swirling through your head so that you can't hear music and you can't recognize your furniture or your own face in the mirror.

Life was a freight train barreling toward just one stop, our loved ones streaking past our windows in blurs of color and light. There was no holding on to any of it, and no slowing it down.

Look around. It's almost gone. If only someone had told me that before. About life. If only I had understood.

the territory between two people who were once soul mates but were no longer was akin to wandering into Pakistan's tribal region.

she was flighty and poor, a French studies major who quoted Simone de Beauvoir. She wiped her runny nose on her coat sleeve when it was snowing, stuck her head out of car windows the way dogs do, the wind fireworking her hair. That woman was gone now. Not that it was her fault. Vast fortunes did that to people. It took them to the cleaners, cruelly starched and steam-pressed them so all their raw edges, all the dirt and hunger and guileless laughter, were ironed out. Few survived real money.

I hate how the people who really get you are the ones you can never hold onto for very long, and the ones who don't understand you at all stick around.

I miss him every single day," she said. "I hate how the people who really get you are the ones you can never hold on to for very long. And the ones who don't understand you at all stick around. Ever noticed that?