Quotes About Loss

Izgubiti nekoga ne zna?i izgubiti samo osobu nego i sve one na?ine i oblike kroz koje se ta osoba izražavala; zato ?ovjek izgubivši voljenu osobu može odjednom otkriti da je izgubio i mnoštvo stvari, slika, stihova, pjesama i mjesta.

Why did I ever leave them, what was I fleeing from? What spoilt scene that I could not then endure?

It was too late to go back. There was a hand which could never, in grace and healing, be laid upon him now.

I am going mad, she thought, I am in some sort of silent raging grief of which I shall die, everything has gone.

Yet the love is there, the love is there — only it's as if it's so wounded it has curled up and gone into a black hole.

The absence of the loved person is so absolute.

He had lived throughout upon magic, upon romantic love in its fullest sense, and this magic, now that she was gone, seemed sometimes likely to kill him.

Guilt is one way of attaching a meaning to a death. We want to find a meaning. It lessens the pain.

Perhaps that was the only time which we should ever, ever have together. Perhaps it was something which would never, never, never come again.

She dreamt she saw the Polish Rider passing slowly by and he was weeping and she called out to him, but he turned his head away. She dreamt that she was drowning in the pool of tears.

I have been struck down before my life begins. I have already died in the war.

But now, when things had happened which were too appalling to think about, when his romantic love was a corpse and his cleverness a ghost, he knew where it was he wanted to lay his head.

You die at heart from a withdrawal of love.

For me, nothing can ever be well again.

Bereavement is my occupation and it absorbs me completely. You want me to touch you, to look at you with sympathy. I cannot.

Sham dead,' I said. 'Dead! Dead dog!' I hoped that this word was in his vocabulary. It was. In a moment Mars's legs sagged and his body became limp and he slid to the ground, his eyes turning back and his mouth hanging open. It was terribly convincing. I was quite upset.

But even Es and cocaine, over the years they blow holes in your brain, rob you of your memories, your past. Which is fair enough, convenient even.

Ah realise now thit death is usually a process, rather than an event. People generally die by degrees, incrementally. They rot away slowly in homes and hoespitals, or places like this.

Estás jodido?, pregunto. No lo sé. Si te soy sincero, será el sexo lo que más echaré de menos. Eso y el tener a alguien, ¿sabes? Tommy necesita a la gente mucho más que la mayoría.

No tears come, and it would be pointless, like trying to empty a reservoir of grief by drip feed. I'm being daft.

Estás jodido?, pregunto. No lo sé. Si te soy sincro, será el sexo lo que más echaré de menos. Eso y el tener a alguien, ¿sabes? Tommy necesita a la gente mucho más que la mayoría.

When the patronising cunt left, ah missed him. He nearly took us oot ay masel. It wis like auld times, but in a sense, that only served tae remind us ay how much things hud changed. Something hud happened. Junk hud happened. Whether ah lived wi it, died wi it, or lived withoot it, ah knew that things could never be the same again.

Just lay it doon ... Renton whispers, looking at the zombie faces of his friends, trying to fight off the notion that besets him; we're not human any more. We've slipped out of our skins like lizards, shedding not just our pasts, but our futures. We're shadows.

Ah'm thinkin that we've lost, and there's bleak times ahead, and ah'm wonderin: what the fuck am ah gaunny dae wi the rest ay ma life?