Quotes About Loss

The page can resurrect what's lost and what's dead, what's not there anymore and what was never there.

To forget is ordinary. Even people in mourning, distracted by some little happiness, forget the dead.

Whether people are besieged by a chemical imbalance or thrown into a panic or depression by a wrenching loss, their inconsistencies also belong to the self.

It can only be that places left behind often become emotionally simplified - that they sound a single note of pain or pleasure, which means that they are never what they were.

Like most people confined to an institution, she had been divested of a past life.

Through experience most adults lose that intense feeling of the unfamiliar - of being not home.

But I missed Ruth terribly, and I understood once she was gone how much her presence colored mine. Ruth was the heroine of her own life story, and when we were together, she made me the heroine of mine. She gave daily hardships the stature of romance and drama.

How many other are there? I thought. People, things, seen and then forgotten, leaving nothing behind them, not even the knowledge that they're missing.

Every sickness has an alien quality, a feeling of invasion and loss of control that is evident in the language we use about it.

Gus knew. Gus knows. I will not tell you our love story, because—like all real love stories—it will die with us, as it should. I'd hoped that he'd be eulogizing me.

Jamie saved my life. She taught me everything. About life, hope and the long journey ahead. I'll always miss her. But our love is like the wind. I can't see it, but I can feel it." - Landon Carter

You may glory in a team triumphant... But you fall in love with a team in defeat.

... I think we grieve forever, but that goes for love too, fortunately for us all.

My heart goes out to the people of the city of Boston. My thoughts and prayers are with the families who lost loved ones in such a senseless and heartless way.

I maintain that all sorrow comes from love of those things of which loss deprives me.

You just watch somebody you love slowly, slowly disappear and go away.

I've always been drawn to stories and characters facing some sort of struggle against forces beyond our control, be it love, loss, betrayal.

The love of those we don't love in return settles on the surface and from there quickly evaporates.

But what happens when her beauty is torn from her like a cover from a book? Will he care to read her then, although her pages speak of nothing but love for him?

My dad died when I was 17. He had heart and other problems. He was a good father, lots of love. But he was affected by it. When he died, mom picked up the reins and raised six boys all on her own.

All is amiss. Love is dying, faith's defying, heart's denying.

Literary history is the great morgue where all seek the dead ones whom they love, or to whom they are related.

There are some things that once you've lost, you never get back. Innocence is one. Love is another. I guess childhood is a third.

Suddenly the staggering love bursts away from me like milk from a smashed glass.