Quotes About Loss

Menschen sterben an gebrochenem Herzen. Sie bekommen Herzinfarkte. Und es ist das Herz, das am meisten wehtut, wenn etwas schief geht und auseinander fällt.

One sat painfully now, among the falling chunks of rain, and the other stood next to her, waiting. "Why did he have to die?" she asked, but still, Rudy did nothing; he said nothing. When finally she finished and stood herself up, he put his arm around her, best-buddy style, and they walked on. There was no request for a kiss. Nothing like that. You can love Rudy for that, if you like.

God, there were so many of them. So many sets of dying eyes and scuffing feet.

A SMALL ANNOUNCEMENT *** ***ABOUT RUDY STEINER*** He didn't deserve to die the way he did.

Papa was an accordion. But his bellows were all empty. Nothing went in and nothing came out.

Immediately. Her brother was next to her. He whispered for her to stop, but he, too, was dead, and not worth listening to. He died in a train. They buried him in the snow.

Anhelaba volver a la inconsciencia de entonces, a sentir tanto amor sin saberlo y a confundirlo con las risas y el pan untado con poco más que el aroma de la mermelada. Fue la mejor época de su vida. Aunque quedaría sembrada de bombas

As the density subsided, the rollcall of names limped through the ruptured streets, sometimes ending with an ash-filled embrace, or a knelt-down howl of grief. They accumulated, hour by hour, like sweet and sour dreams waiting to happen. The dangers merged into one. Powder and smoke and the gusty flames. The damaged people. Like the rest of the men in the unit, Hans would need to perfect the art of forgetting.

People die of broken hearts. They have heart attacks. And it's the heart that hurts most when things go wrong and fall apart.

You see? Even death has a heart.

Finally, in October 1945, a man with swampy eyes, feathers of hair, and a clean-shaven face walked into the shop. He approached the counter. "Is there someone here by the name of Liesel Meminger?" "Yes, she's in the back," said Alex. He was hopeful, but he wanted to be sure. "May I ask who is calling on her?" Liesel came out. They hugged and cried and fell to the floor.

Come on, Max,' she whispered, and even the sound of Mama's arrival at her back did not stop her from silently crying. It didn't stop her from pulling a lump of salt water from her eye and feeding it onto Max Vandenburg's face. Mama took her. Her arms swallowed her. 'I know',she said. She knew.

Earlier, I'd held her papa in one arm and her mama in the other. Each soul was so soft.

For a good ten minutes or so we stand there with the flashlight burning the grave with light. The whole time, I'm trying to guess where and exactly how he died and, more to the point, realizing that poor old Milla's been without him for sixty-years. I can tell. No other man has entered her life. Not the way her Jimmy did. She's been waiting sixty years for Jimmy to come back. And now he has.

The word communist + a large bonfire + a collection of dead letters + the suffering of her mother + the death of her brother = the Führer

I witness the ones who are left behind, crumbling among the jigsaw puzzle of realization, despair, and surprise. They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs.

No quiere amarme pero tampoco quiere perderme.

Stealing is what the army does. Taking your father, and mine.

If nothing else, they died fast and they were warm. The boy from the plane, I thought. The one with the teddy bear. Where was Rudy's confort? Where was someone to alleviate this robbery of his life? Who was there to soothe him as life's rug was snatched from under his sleeping feet?

It was with great sadness that she realised that her brother would be six forever, but when she held that thought, she also made an effort to smile.

There was no recovery from what had happened. That would take decades; it would take a long life.

And far away, in the room that stretched like a bridge to a nameless town, her brother, Werner, played in the cemetery snow.

Another noteworthy point is that the first was stolen from snow and the second from fire.

I saw him hip-deep in some icy water, chasing a book, and I saw a boy lying in bed, imagining how a kiss would taste from his glorious next-door neighbor. He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It's his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.