Quotes About Loss

I think it's because it's startling every time - every single time - that such beauty and such loss coincide in every life, in every soul, in every memory.

The things you lose do shape who you become. There's no getting around that. But the losses don't obliterate what came before.

When grief develops and grows, the suffering at the heart of it changes, too. It becomes less acute, less raw and fiery. I'm not sure it diminishes, but it somehow becomes diffused across the memories that surround the loss at the heart of it. It seems less concentrated, and therefore more bearable.

No podríamos seguir siendo amigos?... -Seguro que muere un hada cada vez que en algún lugar del mundo se formula esta pregunta.

Lass uns Freunde bleiben - dieser Spruch war wirklich das allerletzte. Bestimmt stirbt jedesmal eine Fee, wenn irgendwo auf der Welt jemand diesen Satz ausspricht.' - Gwendolyn

I love you, Gwenny. Please don't leave me," said Gideon. That was the last thing I heard before a great void swallowed me up.

Let's stay friends—I mean, that really was the end!" "What do you bet a fairy dies every time someone says that anywhere in the world?

Unable are the Loved to die, For Love is Immortality … EMILY DICKINSON

It's like you're born with all these blessings, only you don't realize they're blessings until you lose them. And if you're thick-headed enough, like me, you don't even realize you've lost them, not until they come back to you.

It's always hard to lose somebody. It leaves a hole in you heart that never grows back.

I didn't want us to abnormal. I didn't want all this chaos and underworld crap... but that's where we'd come from. The choas was part of us. Part of what we were. And I was afraid if we lost it completely, we might lose part of ourselves...

Alcohol. It sucks the life out of a face and replaces it with its own dumb shine of inanity. It's up to you. If you want to lose yourself, have a drink.

Jenny dies in my arms. Goes to sleep, doesn't wake up. My tears taste of blood.

We all have that burning question about what happens if we lose somebody we love, especially if we lose them tragically. We wonder what fear was going on, we wonder if we could have reached out and touched them, held their hand, looked in their eyes, been there.

Grief is born. Grief matures. Grief passes. Despair, on the other hand, which arrives in an instant, ferments into depression. And although depression was months away, at least, already he felt himself not caring.

But this was the first time someone he loved would be gone forever. He didn't like to think about the forever part. But when he did, which was often, the only place he wanted to be was home.

32 Deciding to leave home     41 Life Events Scale for Children The death of a parent   

For those of you who have childhood memories with pain or loss in them, it probably doesn't take much to recall those grievances and grudges. But as we look at the power of confronting the truth about your past, I hope that you (...) can avoid the waste before the days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, and months turn into years. You can take control. You can avoid those wasted years. And it's never too late to start.

The loss of psalmody in the church is one of the early indicators of the loss of faith.

if you never know sorrow then you will never know love and if you never know death then you never know life.

It never ceased to cause him wonder, that here had been a living person and now she was gone, fading away again, the city waking up without her as if she'd never been there. It was an incredible thing, beyond comprehension, as incredible as being there in the first place.

he couldn't see the wisdom of it from the point of view of anyone who wanted to live. He self-corrected his thoughts – anyone who was desperate to live. He wanted to live, of course he did, but at this precise moment he was happy enough to gamble his life for a bit of certainty. He had a lot to lose, but it was all in the future, not the present, and that potential loss wasn't tangible enough to trouble him; he'd already lost too much that was real.

To lose someone close to you is to enter an experience no amount of forethought or hindsight can free you from. You must live through grief. You cannot outsmart it, nor think through the fact of someone's being gone, and forever. You must survive the sorrow.

Death brings with it a duty and devotion that cannot be explained to those who don't know it. Why, after all, would you keep his crummy plaid shirts and give his good suits away? Why do material things matter at once less and more? Why, in the void, does ritual, both inherited and invented, rush in?