Quotes About Loss

I began to feel that all the people I'd ever known who had died or left me had not in fact gone away, but continued to live on inside me

Aku tertidur nyenyak dan bermimpi aku sedang berada dalam bangket di Gion, bicara dengan seorang laki-laki tua yang menjelaskan kepadaku bahwa istrinya, yang dicintainya dengan amat mendalam, tidak benar-benar meninggal karena kenikmatan saat mereka bersama-sama masih hidup di dalam dirinya.

I knew she was gone, and yet the very emptiness of the hall seemed to suggest something of her presence. Even now, as an older woman, I sometimes lift the brocade cover on the mirror of my makeup stand, and have the briefest flicker of a thought that I may find her there in the glass, smirking at me.

We must always keep something to remember those who have left us.

Al tempio c'è una poesia intitolata la mancanza, incisa nella pietra. Ci sono 3 parole, ma il poeta le ha cancellate. Non si può leggere la mancanza, solo avvertirla.

Si moría mi madre, ¿cómo iba yo a seguir viviendo en la casa con él? No quería alejarme de él, pero cuando mi madre desapareciera, la casa se quedaría vacía, estuviera él o no.

And yet when his death happened only a few months later, I understood that he left me at the end of his long life just as naturally as the leaves fall from the trees.

You never know how much you share with someone until the sharing ends.

Yet when the denial becomes so complete that we live under what amounts to a tyranny of not seeing and not speaking the existential truth, it becomes dangerous itself. This is what makes the closest and deepest experiences of catastrophe, loss, and failure so

Looking at the letter in his hand) Then what is this if it isn't telling me? Sure, [Larry] was my son. But I think to him [the pilots killed] were all my sons. And I guess they were, I guess they were

I'm losing weight, you notice, Pop?

Unrequited love is not fatal, it's just a temporary digestive disorder that leaves no visible marks, only a newly acquired but permanent inability to ever eat certain specific, unnecessary things again without having terrible digestive distress. Shrimp gives me gas, so I don't eat shrimp. I don't sit up nights crying about shrimp, right? All right then. Have two aspirin and a full glass of water, remember?

Every parting gives a foretaste of death, every reunion a hint of the resurrection.

The deep pain that is felt at the death of every friendly soul arises from the feeling that there is in every individual something which is inexpressible, peculiar to him alone, and is, therefore, absolutely and irretrievably lost.

To have lost what cannot be missed is clearly no evil.

The ordinary man places his life's happiness in things external to him, in property, rank, wife and children, friends, society, and the like, so that when he loses them or finds them disappointing, the foundation of his happiness is destroyed.

Therefore, we do not become conscious of the three greatest blessings of life as such, namely health, youth, and freedom, as long as we possess them, but only after we have lost them; for they too are negations.

Guardando tutto ciò che non abbiamo, siamo soliti pensare: E se fosse mio?, e cosí facendo avvertiamo la privazione. Viceversa, nel caso di ciò che possediamo dovremmo pensare spesso: E se lo perdessi?.

Accordingly, the loss of the beloved one through a rival, or through death, is the greatest pain of all to those passionately in love; just because it is of a transcendental nature, since it affects him not merely as an individual, but also assails him in his essentia aeterna, in the life of the species, in whose special will and service he was here called. This is why jealousy is so tormenting and bitter, and the giving up of the loved one the greatest of all sacrifices.

It may not be dying we fear so much, but the diminished self.

Broyard concludes that "it may not be dying we fear so much, but the diminished self

Her grief grieved her. His devastated her.

And when we look in through the windows, all we see are shadows. And when we try and listen, all we hear is a whispering. And we cannot understand the whispering, because our minds have been invaded by a war. A war that we have both won and lost. The very worst sort of war. A war that captures dreams and re-dreams them. A war that has made us adore our conquerors and despise ourselves.

What came for them? Not death. Just the end of living.