Quotes About Loss

it was Satyria who spoke of Arachne in glowing terms: her audacity, her outspokenness, her sense of humor. All the things, Coriolanus thought as he dabbed his eyes, that were so annoying about her and had ultimately brought on her death.

Tidak perlu. Mimpi-mimpi burukku biasanya tentang kehilangan dirimu," kata Peeta. "Aku baik-baik saja setelah aku sadar kau ada di sini." (Catching Fire, hal.100)

Tell her, that we are so sorry she has to die.

U meni je ve? mnogo vatre. Ono što mi je potrebno je mnasla?ak u prolje?e. Jarko žuta boja ponovnog ra?anja, a n euništenja. Obe?anje da se život može nastaviti, bez obzira koliko teški bili naši gubitci. Da opet može biti lijep.

She's really gone, then...Time and tragedy have forced her to grow too quickly...

turn to Rue's family. "But I feel as if I did know Rue, and she'll always be with me. Everything beautiful brings her to mind. I see her in the yellow flowers that grow in the Meadow by my house. I see her in the mockingjays that sing in the trees. But most of all, I see her in my sister, Prim.

Pero siento como si conociera a Rue...La veo en las flores amarillas que crecen en la Pradera junto a mi casa. La veo en los sinsajos que cantan en los arboles. Pero mas que nada, la veo en mi hermana Prim.

I think of my parents. The way my father never failed to bring her gifts from the woods. The way my mother's face would light up at the sound of his boots at the door. The way she almost stopped living when he died.

I should have tried to save you," I whisper.

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. My home is District 12. I was in the Hunger Games. I escaped. The Capitol hates me. Peeta was taken prisoner. He is thought to be dead. Most likely he is dead. It is probably best if he is dead. . . .

Why bother pinching pennies when the dollars had fled long ago?

I try to imagine a world where both Gale's and Peeta's voices have ceased. Hands stilled. Eyes unblinking. I'm standing over their bodies, having a last look, leaving the room where they lie. But when I open the door to step out into the world, there's only a tremendous void. A pale gray nothingness that is all my future holds.

it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I'm afraid it could be taken away.

I am determined to avenge her, to make her loss unforgettable, and I can only do that by winning and thereby making myself unforgettable.

I take the pearl from where it lives in my pocket and try to remember the boy with the bread, the strong arms that warded off nightmares on the train, the kisses in the arena. To make myself put a name to the thing I've lost. But what's the use? It's gone. He's gone. Whatever existed between us is gone.

He said, See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner." -Peeta Mellark in The Hunger Games

I like Hazelle. Respect her. The explosion that killed my father took out her husband as well, leaving her with three boys and a baby due any day.

you die, and I live, there's no life for me at all back in District Twelve. You're my whole life," he says. "I would never be happy again." I

Watching the bright pages of his picture books — the very ones he'd pored over with his mother — reduced to ashes had never failed to bring him to tears. But better off sad than dead.

A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta's child could be safe.

And then it hits me. They already have. They have kiled her father in those wretched mines. They have sat by as she almost starved to death. They have chosen her as a tribute, then made her watch her sister fight to the death in the Games. She has been hurt far worse than I had at the age of twelve. And even that pales in comparison with Rue's life.

Luxa stood up, her face paler than usual. She went to her cousin, sat beside him, and put her arms around him. Pressing her forehead into his shoulder, she said, "She will fly with you always. You know this. She will fly with you always.

She's really gone, then. The little girl with the back of her shirt sticking out like a duck tail, the one who needed help reaching the dishes, and who begged to see the frosted cakes in the bakery window. Time and tragedy have forced her to grow too quickly, at least for my taste, into a young woman who stitches beeding wounds and knows our mother can hear only so much.

I wish she was dead," he says. "I wish they were all dead and we were, too. It would be best.