Quotes About Loss

No concibo mi vida más que como un encadenamiento de muertes sucesivas. Arrastro tras de mí los cadáveres de todas mis ilusiones, de todas mis vocaciones perdidas.

Just because she's dead it doesn't mean I stopped loving her or that she stopped loving me. It's just her body that left. The love didn't. —Jenna Richards

If I canot know your name, may I light a lamp so I can see your face?' If you sould ever see my face, you will lose me forever.' Why?' Psyche wanted to know. 'Are you ugly? Are you afraid I won't love you if I see your face?' Perhaps I am afraid that if you see my face, it will be THAT that you will love and not me.' I understand, believe me. I know what that feels like.

There was an end to weeping. Mourning, however, ebbed and surged but never ceased flowing.

He took the box but did not avail himself of a tissue. She understood. Sometimes it was comforting to feel the wetness of grief's tears on your face.

Having our hearts exposed is an extremely vulnerable position to be in. It can make us feel persecuted and alone. Why did this happen to me? we ask. It happened partly because we were fortunate enough to have loved someone. Without love there would be no grief.

You whispered my full name and we fell asleep in each other's arms and I remember how the next morning you were gone, completely gone, and nothing in my bed or the house could have proven otherwise.

A person doesn't mourn forever.

Beli at thirteen believed in love like a seventy-year-old widow who's been abandoned by family, husband, children and fortune believes in God.

Crying all the time had made her more beautiful. Grief will do that sometimes. Not for me. Loretta had left months ago and I still looked like hell.

Instead of lowering your head and copping to it like a man, you pick up the journal as one might hold a bady's beshattered diaper, as one might pinch a recently benutted condom. You glance at the offending passages. Then you look at her and smile a smile your dissembling face will remember until the day you die. Baby, you say, baby, this is part of my novel. This is how you lose her.

What else she doesn't know: that the man next to her would end up being her husband and the father of her two children, that after two years together he would leave her, her third and final heartbreak, and she would never love again.

and in the gloaming of her dwindling strength there yawned a loneliness so total it was beyond death, a loneliness that obliterated all memory, the loneliness of a childhood where she'd not even had her own name

Baby, you say, baby this is part of my novel. This is how you lose her.

You go to more doctors. You celebrate Arlenny's Ph.D. defense. And then one June night you scribble the ex's name and: The half life of love is forever.

It is probably her son she misses, or the father. Or our whole country, which you never think of until it's gone, which you never love until you're no longer there.

our whole country, which you never think of until it's gone, which you never love until you're no longer there.

Depois olhas para ela e sorris um sorriso que o teu rosto hipócrita irá recordar até ao fim dos teus dias. Querida, dizes, isto é apenas um capítulo do meu romance. É assim que a perdes.

I figured this staying up meant something. Maybe it was loss or love or some other word that we say when it's too fucking late but the boys weren't into melodrama. They heard that shit and said no. Especially the Old Man. Divorced at twenty, with two kids down in D.C., neither of which he sees anymore. He heard me and said, Listen. There are forty-four ways to get over this. He showed me his bitten-up hands.

I figured this staying up meant something. Maybe it was loss or love or some other word that we say when it's too fucking late but the boys weren't into melodrama.

These days I have to ask myself: What made me angrier? That Oscar, the fat loser, quit, or that Oscar, the fat loser, defied me? And I wonder: What hurt him more? That I was never really his friend, or that I pretended to be?

But she was the kind of girlfriend God gives you young, so you'll know loss the rest of your life.

You glance at the offending passages. Then you look at her and smile a smile your dissembling face will remember until the day you die. Baby, you say, baby, this is part of my novel. This is how you lose her.

She was the kind of girlfriend that god gives you young, so that you'll know loss the rest of your life.