Loss Quotes - Page 16

We burn out not because we don't care but because we don't grieve. We burn out because we have allowed our hearts to become so filled with loss that we have no room left to care.

I think of drug dealers like I think of my father— never really there when you want them to be.

There is an hour, a minute - you will remember it forever - when you know instinctively on the basis of the most inconsequential evidence, that something is wrong. You don't know - can't know - that it is the first of a series of "wrongful" events that will culminate in the utter devastation of your life as you have known it.

The ocean does not lose its splendor because it lost a few drops.

On the positive side, a strong sense of comradely loyalty triggers genuine affection and friendship. On the negative side, it may strengthen contempt for the lives of opponents and, of course, the loss of a comrade may be followed by even greater brutality in battle.

The leaves of the trees will stroke your cheeks, The wind will blow through your chest and cleanse your soul, The magical sounds of the earth, animals and the elements will hug your ears, The positive vibrations of the earth will fall asleep next to your heart and the breathtaking beauty of the earth will ease your mind. If you allow it, the earth, in itself, will heal you.

Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee Save Me, save only Me?All which I took from thee I did but take, Not for thy harms.But just that thou might'st seek it in my arms. All which thy child's mistakeFancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home; Rise, clasp My hand, and come!

The spiritual and the physical had been blended in us with a perfection that must remain incomprehensible to the matter-of-fact, crude, standard-brained youngsters of today. Long after her death I felt her thoughts floating through mine. Long before we met we had had the same dreams.

Like Cupid,your promiseswere just misses.

Once a thing is removed from your heart, a trace of it still remains.

My heart broke when he died, split in half and fell down into my stomach or somewhere deep and muddy, and I'm still not sure where it is now. I hear it beating sometimes in my ears, or feel its fast pulse in my neck, like I do now; but in my chest, where it should be, it mostly just feels empty.

Anna drove with the window rolled down, breathing in the essence of autumn: an exhalation of a forest readying itself for sleep, a smell so redolent with nostalgia a pleasant ache warmed her bones and she was nagged with the sense of a loss she could not remember.

If I could find one wordthat would shudder the airlike that frightened sob,that wordless prayerof my newly-born,who drew one breath,and with unopened eyessank back into death;If I could break the world's cold heartwith that cry,then this grief would liftand I could die.

I'm concerned about a better world. I'm concerned about justice; I'm concerned about brotherhood; I'm concerned about truth. And when one is concerned about that, he can never advocate violence. For through violence you may murder a murderer, but you can't murder murder. Through violence you may murder a liar, but you can't establish truth. Through violence you may murder a hater, but you can't murder hate through violence. Darkness cannot put out darkness; only light can do that.

Regrettable was the gallantry of great men who risked themselves for others.

People talk of sorrow as if it is soft, a thing of water and tears. But true sorrow is not soft. True sorrow is a thing of fire, and rock. It burns your heart, crushes your soul under the weight of mountains. It destroys, and even if you keep breathing, keep going, you die. The person you were moments ago dies... Gone. Everything solid, everything real, is gone. It doesn't come back. The world is forever fractured, so that you walk on the crust of an earth where you can always feel the heat under you, the press of lava, that is so hot it can burn flesh, melt bone, and the very air is poisonous. To survive, you swallow the heat. To keep from falling through and dying for real, you swallow all that hate. You push it down inside you, into that fresh grave that is all that is left of what you thought the world would be.

I realised I really didn’t know what I was doing and I felt her trace drowning in the middle of the cars and the people, in the middle of the streets and far away, in the secrets she so jealously kept.I felt it. We were ever so close, ever so far.

Since we all know for a fact that we're all going to die, why don't we all treat each other like we could lose each other at any minute?

Happiness and beauty are the worst things you can have in a life, because you never forget them. They go on and on ambushing you, presumably until you die.

We myopically stare at the gaping hole left in our lives and see nothing but the hole, not realizing a hole is defined by everything around it that is not a hole.

Without you discovering your true picture, it will be hard to have a glorious future. It is the discovery of what you have inside and the pursuit of it that can guarantee a glorious future

Funny how an absence can feel like a presence, like that space practically glows with her outline and make me notice how she's not here.

Treat gain and loss the same.' Don't be Intimidated. Don't make a Big Deal of anything - just accept things as they come to you.

What else has kept any of us going, but love of someone or the memory of that love?

If the greatest loss of his life is the loss of a dream he's always known to be a dream, then he's among the fortunate ones.

Three boys. Three deaths. One school. We've made the national news. Is out school cursed? Are we a reckless bunch of fools? The media asks questions no one can answer. Kids can't stop crying.

I could feel my insides sink. My knees too. So I sat on the ground, against the wall, letting it support me. I thought I knew what heartbreak felt like. I thought heartbreak was me, standing alone at the prom. That was nothing. This, this was heartbreak. The pain in your chest, the ache behind your eyes. The knowing that things will never be the same again. It’s all relative, I suppose. You think you know love, you think you know real pain, but you don’t. You don’t know anything.

Sunlight’s warmth on my face awoke me in the morning. I didn’t remember falling asleep or how I came to be in my own bed. But I did recall nightmares. Awful nightmares featuring Gwen.I turned my head to stare out an open window where the sun shone in full splendor, bleaching a clear sky enough to tell it was going to be a beautiful spring day. The air smelled of rain from overnight showers, mixed with a strong floral scent. A large lilac bush outside was responsible for the perfume. I breathed in the clean and fragrant air. My eyelids fluttered, blinking at a stunning reflection of daylight off the glass. The blue beyond gave an exquisite glow to my room. All of it was an invitation to bask in a new day—an invitation I declined because none of that mattered to me. The world might as well come to a dark and ugly end. I saw no reason for beauty or life to go on so long as Gwen was lost. Rolling over in bed, I felt the vice grips wrench at my heart again as I cried myself back to sleep.

There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day. Things that did not go right, things that seemed okay at the time because we could not see the future. If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can’t know better until knowing better is useless.

One cannot make bargains for blissesOr catch them like fishes in netsAnd sometimes the things that life misses Help more than the things that it gets.

I have died at the ripe age of twenty.Smile, for the world didn't get a chance to disappoint me.I have died at the mature age of ninety.Smile, for my life was more than satisfying.I have died suddenly—out of the blue.Smile, for I didn't have to fall ill before you.I have died from a long illness.Smile, for I had the chance to say goodbye.I did not want to leave this Earth.But smile, for I am still here among you.Why are you crying?Can you not see I am smiling?

In this week I see such a picture of life, hard and joyful pressed up together and sleeping in the same bed. They come knit together. The lines of pain run through the joy and remind us to go all in, because life is short. The joy edges the pain and gives us a reason to rise.

And here's something else I learned: you lose some people that way - fast and blinding. But some people inch away from you slowly, in barely discernible steps.

Don't cry. She wouldn't like it. When I missed my father, I used to cry. Mama taught me when I cry, he is sad and will cry, too. I don't want my daddy sad. I'm sure you don't want your daughter sad, too.

There’s a universalunderstanding betweenmen of the silent sorrowa man endures whenhe loses a woman heloves

You’re everything to me. But at best, I’m just a memory to you.

Somewhere out there, a higherform of sadism, won the first round.Well, screw that. I'm not ready to bepwned.

--and yet, in my heart, I always knew we loved each other, a part of me understanding that the passion with which we hurt each other came from something strong enough to withstand the blows we inflicted. Looking back, I guess I always felt that we would have time to work things out eventually, not imagining what was to come; that we would one day have to cut all ties and never speak again.

The world is full of holes and uneven seams, wrinkled places that you can’t make smooth, no matter how hard you try.

Loss is the uninvited door that extends us an unexpected invitation to unimaginable possibilities.

You had me at HelloYou had me at hello, but now it’s time to say goodbye.Whilst my lungs draw breath and my heart beats a steady beat, beside me, for you there will always be a seat.You my special friend brought laughter and smiles that knew no end.Although physically you may be gone, my memories of you will live on and on.I know within my soul once again that we shall meet and when we do,that seat is still reserved especially for you.You had me at hello, for now my friend I say goodbye.

He relaxed into the dirt, it was all right, he was infantry and the dirt was home. He felt warm liquid all over his left thigh and wondered if he’d peed himself, it didn’t matter, none of it mattered, the stars were out in the blackness overhead and that was where he was going.

When a freedom is taken away from you, I suppose, you recognize it as a privilege, not a right.

My heart has joined the Thousand, for my friend stopped running today.

But unlike Mama, I would not go to heaven. My secrets padlocked the gates. I'd be a torn kite stuck in the dead branches of a tree, unable to fly.

What amazes me most is that we, as a people, have shared our collective story of being thrown out of our homeland, Palestine, with each other and with many others- actually we have bored the world with this collective story- but somehow the individual Palestinian shies away, or perhaps is too afraid, to share the very personal story of being thrown out of her or his home, living room, or bedroom. These personal stories are seldom told, not even to our own children, perhaps not even to ourselves. I guess the wound remains open.

Maybe Laney's right. Maybe June did love me. But I'm far less certain that she knew I loved her. Did she realise how much I needed her around? It's not like I ever told her. I was too wrapped up in my own world to notice what was going on in hers. Even if she did know, it wasn't enough to count. It wasn't enough to make her stay. So really, what did it matter, in the end? wasn't enough. There's no excuse. There is nothing that will ever make that okay.

To let something go is to participate in a much greater dance that we call life.

It’s just never going to get any easier is it. It’s never going away, this missing you. It’s going to become a sadness I incorporate into myself – along with all the other sadnesses – and quietly carry around with me forever…

Each memory was now the shadow of a shadow of a shadow. The only thing that remained tangible to him was the sense of absence.

And when she at last came out, her eyes were dry. Her parents stared up from their silent breakfast at her. They both started to rise but she put a hand out, stopped them. ‘I can care for myself, please,’ and she set about getting some food. They watched her closely. tIn point of fact, she had never looked as well. She had entered her room as just an impossibly lovely girl. The woman who emerged was a trifle thinner, a great deal wiser, and an ocean sadder. This one understood the nature of pain, and beneath the glory of her features, there was character, and a sure knowledge of suffering. tShe was eighteen. She was the most beautiful woman in a hundred years. She didn’t seem to care. t‘You’re all right?’ her mother asked.tButtercup sipped her cocoa. ‘Fine,’ she said.t‘You’re sure?’ her father wondered.t‘Yes,’ Buttercup replied. There was a very long pause. ‘But I must never love again.’tShe never did.

Tears shed for another person are not a sign of weakness. They are a sign of a pure heart.

At one point, she said after a while, at one point we thought we might raise silkworms in one of the empty rooms. But then we never did. Oh, for the countless things one fails to do!

He would find his Susie,inside his young son. Give that love to the living.

Sometimes a tragedy must happen to keep a soul on schedule. This is the reason for things that seem to have no reason. This is the reason that we cannot fathom when we are going through it.Perhaps I will get very sick. People wonder why cancer exists when it is just a clever method to teach people lessons about love and loss. It borrows time or steals it depending on the needs of Heaven. It is a vehicle to get us where we need to be. It calls us home because something needs us there.

To be happy to be sad and sad to be happy is to sing an echo in that beautiful language called Sorrow.

Like that first kiss we will never have. Like the last kiss we will always have.

It didn’t hurt me. Not “hurt”. Hurt is a four letter word. It’s short, almost cute sounding. Aawwww, did that hurt? No. It didn’t hurt. Destroyed, Obliterated, Desecrated, Annihilated, Demolished, Shattered, or Demoralised maybe… But no. It didn’t hurt me. It didn’t “hurt” me at all.

...recognizing that there is more heartbreak in continuous disappointment than a void...

As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss.