Quotes About Loss

There is, on rare occasions, true joy, but each time that precious, startling moment then dwindles, and in each face you see a hint of sorrow—as if what was just found will now be for ever remembered as a thing lost. Can you be nostalgic for the instant just past? Oh yes, and it's a bittersweet taste.

We never even slowed them. Quick, whatever happened to subtlety? He could see a sliver of sky, could see the wyval wheeling round up there, eager to descend and feed. Grandma, you always said don't reach too far. Close your dead eyes now, and remember, I loved you so. He left his body, winged skyward.

Because, Toc the Younger, you are the brother of Onos T'oolan. His true brother now. And for all the mercy that once dwelt in your mortal heart, only ghosts remain. They must not love you. They must not believe in you. For you are not the man you once were.

Children are dying.' Lull nodded. 'That's a succinct summary of humankind, I'd say. Who needs tomes and volumes of history? Children are dying. The injustices of the world hide in those three words.

Years ago, she had not known the magnitude of the loss, for there had been nothing to offer a contrast to misery, hunger and abuse.

If she was a friend, you will miss her company, and that is the true source of your grief—your sorrow is for yourself.

It's bad when you lose 'em. Friends, I mean. Makes you wonder why you're still here, why the damned sack of blood and muscle and bones keeps on going. So you run. Then what? Nothing. You're not here, but wherever you are, you're still there.

You misunderstand me. You always have. I have grieved, and that's faded away. Gone. Now … well, now there's nothing. A vast, unlit cavern. Ashes.

good men, the ones you lost.

The named soldier – dead, melted wax – demands a response among the living . . . a response no-one can make. Names are no comfort, they're a call to answer the unanswerable. Why did she die, not him? Why do the survivors remain anonymous – as if cursed – while the dead are revered? Why do we cling to what we lose while we ignore what we still hold?

We weep in our lives for the things lost to us, the worlds done.

Blend walked into K'rul's Bar and found it empty, save for the hunched figure of the historian, who sat at his chosen table, staring at the stained, pitted wood. She walked over and looked down at him. 'Who died?' Duiker did not look up. 'Not who, Blend. More like what. What died? More, I think, than we'll ever know.

I hate myself, but he hates everyone else. Which of us has lost the most?

How much could be stripped from a people before they began stripping away themselves? The steep slope of dissolution began with a skid, only to become a headlong run.

Innocence,' she whispered. The one thing we all leave behind, alas. The one thing we all walk away from, sooner or later. Oh yes, you can look back and call it ignorance instead. But you do that because you've forgotten what you lost.

The soul knows no greater anguish than to take a breath that begins with love and ends with grief.

If people are going to be taken away from him, either through death or a transformation of their personality that makes them into strangers, then he's better off without them.

He hands the page to his wife and looks across the room to Colleen's picture, listening to her absence, breathing deeply the air she can't share.

I'm glad she left me the kids. I'd be lost without them. Lost and bitter. With them here, I'm only bitter.

I rush to her side and touch her cold skin, hoping against hope for a pulse.

I thought they were meant to leave one another - not me.

The days passed in a dream. I pictured our reunion again and again, played it out in my mind over and over until I'd almost worn a groove in my thoughts, so deep that it seemed the only thing I could think of was our reunion. Anticipation is a gift. Perhaps there is none greater. Anticipation is born of hope. Indeed it is hope's finest expression. In hope's loss, however, is the greatest despair.

But what worse fate could there be? To remember love and know it is unattainable?

He's tired of watching his friends die," Cross said quietly. "We're all tired of watching friends die. It doesn't make him special." "Well," Cristena said, "it doesn't make it easy, either.