Quotes About Loss

The people close to you become mirrors and journals in which you record your history, the instruments that help you know yourself and remember yourself, and you do the same for them. When they vanish so does the use, the appreciation, the understanding of those small anectodes, catchphrases, jokes: they become a book slammed shut or burnt.

We should be able to find our way back again by the objects we dropped, like Hansel and Gretel in the forest, the objects reeling us back in time, undoing each loss, a road back from lost eyeglasses to lost toys and baby teeth.

The sheer differentness of the past, the reminder that everything changes, has always felt liberatory to me; to know that this moment will pass is freeing. There have been, there will be, other ways to be human. But the loss that is not gradual evolution but evition and erasure is not liberatory at all.

The sheer differentness of the past, the reminder that everything changes, has always felt liberatory to me; to know that this moment will pass is freeing. There have been, there will be, other ways to be human. But the loss that is not gradual evolution but eviction and erasure is not liberatory at all.

James's investigation concluded that human beings respond with initiative, orderliness, and helpfulness; they remain calm; and suffering and loss are transformed when they are shared experiences.

Si el dolor y la belleza están conectados, quizá con la madurez llega no lo que Nabhan llama abstracción, sino un sentido estético que compensa parcialmente las pérdidas que sufrimos con el tiempo y que encuentra belleza en lo distante.

Hay cosas que solo poseemos si están perdidas, hay cosas que no se pierden si de ellas nos separa la distancia.

No perderte nunca es no vivir

She was dead even before she was a corpse.

What is happening here eats out the heart of the city from the inside: the infrastructure is for the most part being added to rather than torn down, but the life within it is being drained away, a siphoning off of diversity, cultural life, memory, complexity. What remains will look like the city that was—or like a brighter, shinier, tidier version of it—but what it contained will be gone. It will be a hollow city.

when everything else is gone, you can be rich in loss.

Nobody gets over anything; time doesn't heal any wounds; if he stopped loving her today, as one of George Jones's most famous songs has it, it's because he's dead.

An idyll like that wasn't made to last. For a while it was forever, and then things started to fall apart.

When one begins to lose touch with reality, the ill brain latches obsessively and delusionally onto whatever it's immersed in—the surrounding culture's illness.

When I recovered the blouse, I lost the memory, for the two were irreconcilable. It vanished in an instant, and I saw it go. Sometimes you hear of murals and miraculously preserved bodies buried, sealed, protected from light for hundreds or thousands of years. Exposed to the fresh air and light for the first time, they begin to fade, crumble, disappear. Sometimes gaining and losing are more intimately related than we like to think.

Perder cosas tiene que ver con la desaparición de lo conocido, perderse tiene que ver con la aparición de lo desconocido.

I got dosed by you and Closer than most to you and What am I supposed to do Take it away I never had it anyway

To lose such an important listener in life is like losing my shadow. With no shadow, does a person truly exist under the sun? With no listener, does a person really have a voice? Silence means so many things to human beings. Some of them are unbearable.

But here—in the midst of this unimaginable loss—is where I found it. The gift in the rupture. Rupture's gift is the chance to feel the pain that we could not afford to feel before. In rupture, this pain becomes ours. Because we have longed. Because we have loved.

But even as he laughed and turned and lost sight of her, he knew he was in error. He spun round and his mind kept spinning as his eyes sought desperately for some sign, some trace. But he had known before he turned that he was at last completely alone on the tower.

But I think mebbe it was himself he blamed most. 'It 'ud be different if only she'd come back,' he'd say. 'I'd never let her out of my sight.

There's much more behind our thirst for monsters than curiosity or escapism. There is fear that the earth is loosing the last regions where myth can flourish.

The train goes slowly. From time to time it stops, so that the dead can be taken off. It stops a lot.

Remarque Erich Maria