Quotes About Loss

What is a game? It's tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. It's the possibility of infinite rebirth, infinite redemption. The idea that if you keep playing, you could win. No loss is permanent, because nothing is permanent, ever.

And eventually, Sadie would be a stranger. And this would be a disaster for Sam. A tragedy. He would know that if he hadn't been the person he was, terrified and cowardly and petty and insecure and sexually panicked and broken, Sadie might have been his.

The greatest pleasures of his life had been when he was by her side, playing or inventing. And how could she not feel that as well? There would never be another Sadie, and now this one was lost to him.

What is a game?' Marx said. 'It is tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. It's the possibility of infinite rebirth, infinite redemption. The idea that if you keep playing, you could win. No loss is permanent, because nothing is permanent, ever.

Retrospectively, he realized that he had made a grave miscalculation when he had ended the friendship with Sadie. His mistake had been in thinking the world would be filled with Sadie Greens, people like her. It was not.

He missed Sadie more than he had missed her in the years he hadn't spoken to her, because there she was, every day. It looked like Sadie and it spoke like Sadie, but somehow it was no longer Sadie.

She could feel herself forgetting all the details of Marx---the sound of his voice, the feeling of his fingers and the way they gestured, his precise temperature, his scent on clothing, the way he looked walking away, or running up a flight of stairs. Eventually, Sadie imagined that Marx would be reduced to a single image: just a man standing under a torii gate, holding his hat in his hands, waiting for her.

Gabrielle Zevin

It begins to seem to me that life is little more than a series of losses, and as you must know by now, I hate losing.

As the brain is detaching from the body, you think, How I will miss the horses.

It begins to seem to me that life is little more than a series of losses

EMILY MARKS DAEDALUS 1875-1909 SHE HATH DIED OF DYSENTERY

What is a game? (Marx said) It's tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. It's the possibility of infinite rebirth, infinite redemption. The idea that if you keep playing, you could win. No loss is permanent, because nothing is permanent, ever.

Sam knew the foot was gone. He could see it was gone. He knew what he was experiencing was a basic error in programming, and he wished he could open up his brain and delete the bad code. Unfortunately, the human brain is every bit as closed a system as a Mac.

What is a game?" Marx said. "It's tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. It's all the possibility of infinite rebirth, infinite redemption. The idea that if you keep playing, you could win. No loss is permanent, because nothing is permanent, ever.

Amelia's mother had died two years ago, and though their relationship had been challenging at times, she misses her with an unexpected ferocity. For instance, until her death, her mother had sent her new underwear in the mail every other month. Amelia had not once had to buy underwear her whole life. Recently, she had found herself standing in the lingerie department at TJ Maxx, and as she went through the panty bin, she had begun to cry: No one will ever love me that much again.

No loss is permanent, because nothing is permanent, ever.

Gabrielle Zevin

Macbeth has just heard the news that his wife had died, and he is giving the most famous soliloquy from the play, the "Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow" speech.

Every day, there is less of me. Today I am thoughts without words. Tomorrow I will be a body without thoughts. And so it goes.

She was pretty and smart, which makes her death a tragedy.

He writes a paragraph a day. A paragraph for Maya. It isn't much, but it's what he has left to give. He

Lights, bright enough to dilate her eyes. Horns, flaccid and come too late. Metal crumpling like tissue. The body was not in pain but only because the body was gone, elsewhere. Yes, Daniel thinks just after impact but before death, like that. The passage hadn't been as bad as he had thought.

cops have been calling about a stolen copy of Tamerlane. She takes the book from her bag and hands it to me. I throw it back at her. 'What am I going to do with this?' Marian Wallace just shakes her head. The book lands on the floor, and the little