Quotes About Loss

Childhood tiptoed out. Silence slid in like a bolt.

She was buried right next to her mother, Begum Arifa Yeswi. Mother and daughter died by the same bullet. It entered Miss Jebeen's head through her left temple and came to rest in her mother's heart. In the last photograph of her, the bullet wound looked like a cheerful summer rose arranged just above her left ear. A few petals had fallen on her kaffan, the white shroud she was wrapped in before she was laid to rest.

Suddenly they become the bleached bones of a story.

He left behind a Hole in the Universe through which darkness poured like liquid tar. Through which their mother followed without even turning to wave good-bye. She left them behind, spinning in the dark, with no moorings, in a place with no foundation.

Half an hour past midnight. Death came for him. And for the little family curled up and asleep on a blue cross-stitch counterpane? What came for them? Not death Just the end of living. (304)

There was no trace of the slim, attractive girl that she had been.

It is curious how sometimes the memory of death lives on for so much longer than the memory of the life that it purloined.

The God of Loss. The God of Small Things. He left no footprints in sand, no ripples in water, no image in mirrors.

É curioso como às vezes a memória da morte vive por muito mais tempo que a memória da vida que ela roubou.

Furono invece usati bulldozer gialli importati dall'Australia per schiacciare le loro case, le porte e le finestre, i tetti di fortuna, le pentole e le padelle, le stoviglie, i cucchiai, i diplomi scolastici, le carte annonarie, i certificati di matrimonio, le scuole frequentate dai bambini, il lavoro di un'intera vita, le espressioni negli occhi della gente.

Her ashes. The grit from her bones. The teeth from her smile. The whole of her crammed into a little clay pot. Receipt No. Q 498673.

In certi paesi alcuni soldati muoiono due volte.

In some countries, some soldiers die twice

Jis sar ko ghurur aaj hai yaan taj-vari ka Kal uss pe yahin shor hai phir nauhagari ka

They left: Six princes, their pockets stuffed with toys. A pair of two-egg twins. And the God of Loss. He couldn't walk. So they dragged him. Nobody saw them. Bats, of course, are blind.

If anything, she possessed him in death in a way that she never had while he was alive. At least her memory of him was hers. Wholly hers. Savagely, fiercely, hers.

Death was everywhere. Death was everything. Career. Desire. Dream. Poetry. Love. Youth itself. Dying became just another way of living.

Before i knew the best part of my life had come ,it had gone....

They had not understood - they'd not known what a hole you faced when you turn around, and the one you'd thought would always be there was gone.

Sometimes there is no comfort, only the knowledge that the worst has happened.

People die only once. They have no experience to draw on.

Endings matter, not just for the person but, perhaps even more, for the ones left behind.

Old age is not a battle. Old age is a massacre.

Death is the enemy. But the enemy has superior forces. Eventually, it wins.