Quotes About Loss

She could not bear the tenderness which a dog would evoke, she did not want the pain of another love. She knew how very much, how desperately, she would love her dog; and dogs are vulnerable and short-lived and die.

He looked so sad. I never saw him look sad before, he was always so superior, everywhere the king. You once called him a god from elsewhere who had lost his way.

The bereaved cannot communicate with the unbereaved.

It was for me a moment of great peace. I did not know then that it was the last, the very last moment of peace, the end of the old innocent world, the final moment before I was plunged into the nightmare of which these ensuing pages tell the story.

I must think of him as vanished utterly and gone forever.

She was a part, an evidence, of some pure uncracked unfissured confidence in the good which was never there for me again.

If only he could be loved by somebody new.

there was a feeling as if I carried a small leaden coffin in the place of my heart

I can't quite believe he has actually left this scene, left our lives, wherein he was always so significant!

How we tracked him, you most of all of course, and lost him and found him.

There had been a slaughter of all my other interests, and upon the strange white open scene of the future only one thing remained.

The only cure here was death. They were both gone out of my life.

To lose somebody is to lose not only their person but all those modes and manifestations into which their person has flowed outwards; so that in losing a beloved one may find so many things, pictures, poems, melodies, places lost too.

God, how the young and beautiful vanish and are no more seen.

Love can end. That's just one of the horrors of human life.

And what is love anyway? Love's all over the mountain where the beautiful go to die no doubt, but I cannot attach much meaning to your idea of such a long-lasting love for someone you lost sight of so long ago. Perhaps it's something you've invented now.

But he was surrendered, they had surrendered him, into the power of death.

He did not consciously wish for death but he grieved at night for some blank thing which he could not even name.

It's just that I don't hope any more, I've lost my nerve.

Suddenly, as if by the fiat of a wicked fairy, he had been utterly dispossessed.

I'm afraid I don't know their address, but there it is, when people are gone they're gone, isn't it.

She has lost the instinct for happiness.

The loss of her reason did not seem to have made her unhappy

One morning, one day, perhaps soon, she would come to him and find him gone; and she knew how much she did not want to see him die, and yet how much she also wished that he might die holding her hand. These thoughts induced tears, which he must not see; and she tried not to think too much about the terrible mystery which was to be enacted . . .