Quotes About Loss

Sometimes artists die young, and we don't know exactly why. I think that, in life, you have these special individuals, whether it's Jimi Hendrix or Janis Joplin or Kurt Cobain. They're on this journey - they're on this earth to change things, to make things incredible - and then they're not with us anymore.

Aborting my baby is the most serious of the many maternal crimes I tally in my head when I am at my lowest, when the Bad Mother label seems to fit best. Rocketship was my baby. And I killed him.

A lot of times you can lose the MP3s - it's a lot of labor to be finding it again, putting things back up. You gotta back up, back up, back up.

After an unremitting and severe labour of two days, we returned to our old encampment with the loss of some of my horses, and my men excessively fatigued.

I would have been glad if it had been the Lord's will to let one of my children live.

Whatever is lost stays alive if we remember it.

In the extra innings phase, you can learn from your life and live with vigor and generosity and gratitude. There is the belief that when you lose one sense, the other senses make up for it and become sharper. . . Maybe in extra innings, we discover new skills, such as patience and resilience, even as we accept that what we lost won't come back.

Ich versuchte, nicht schon wieder glücklich zu sein. Wer glücklich ist, hat etwas zu verlieren; und nur wer nichts zu verlieren hat, kann es mit dieser Welt aufnehmen.

Ultimately, the loss becomes immortal and hole is more familiar than tooth. The tongue worries the phantom root, the mind scans the heart's chambers to verify its emptiness. There is the thing itself and then there is the predicament of its cavity.

In everyone's life there are people who stay and people who go and people who are taken against their will.

Rain slips through your fingers as easily as words blow away in the wind, and yet it has the power to destroy your whole world.

Reckon it's best if you don't have anyone you care about; then it can't hurt you. Don't have to be afraid of losing someone if you no one to lose.

We had taken her for granted until she was no longer there, like an ancient tree you don't truly see until it is felled, and then only from the empty space in the sky do you suddenly grasp its stature.

You're leaving me, Rainbow Girl.

Keep hoping to see the light in her eyes. Even knowing it'll mean she's saying good-bye.

When he kisses me again, the last part of me that could stand myself dies.

I miss her. I don't know how to live without her. There is a hole inside me that nothing fills. If you don't find something to fill that hole, someone else will. And if someone else fills it, they own you. Forever. You'll never get yourself back.

I wasn't prepared for death. Nobody is. You lose someone you love more than you love yourself, and you get a crash course in mortality. You lie awake night after night, wondering if you really believe in heaven and hell and finding all kinds of reasons to cling to faith, because you can't bear to believe they aren't out there somewhere, a few whispered words of a prayer away.

All my life, up until that moment, I'd had a warm, protective blanket wrapped around me, knitted of aunts and uncles, purled of first and second and third cousins, knot-tied with grandmas and grandpas and greats. That blanket had just dropped from my shoulders. I felt cold, lost and alone.

He's so beautiful," she said wistfully. "He's like an angel." "Yep," I agreed flatly. "The one that fell.

Barrons: "He got upset it wouldn't shut up and tore its head off." Mac: "The child?" I gasped

Chloe-lass: If I'm not here with you now, I'm beyond this life, for 'tis the only way I'll ever let you go. ... I hoped I loved you well, sweet, for I know even now that you are my brightest shining star. I knew it the moment I saw you. Ah, lass, you so adore your artifacts. This thief covets but one priceless treasure: You. Dageus -In a letter

I can't help but see myself in them. The Seelie are who I was before my sister died. Pink, pretty, frivolous Mac. The Unseelie are who I've become, carved by loss and despair. Black, grungy, driven Mac.

What no one tells you is that when someone you love dies, you lose them twice. Once to death, the second time to acceptance, and you don't walk that long, dark passage between the two alone. Grief takes every shuffling, unwilling step with you, offering a seductive bouquet of memories that can only blossom south of sanity. You can stay there, nose buried in the petals of the past. But you're never really alive again.