Lost Quotes - Page 10

It’s the beating of my heart. The way I lie awake, playing with shadows slowly climbing up my wall. The gentle moonlight slipping through my window and the sound of a lonely car somewhere far away, where I long to be too, I think. It’s the way I thought my restless wandering was over, that I’d found whatever I thought I had found, or wanted, or needed, and I started to collect my belongings. Build a home. Safe behind the comfort of these four walls and a closed door. Because as much as I tried or pretended or imagined myself as a part of all the people out there,I was still the one locking the door every night.Turning off the phone and blowing out the candles so no one knew I was home. ’cause I was never really well around the expectations of my personalityand I wanted to keep to myself. and because I haven’t been very impressed lately. By people, or places.Or the way someone said he loved me and then slowly changed his mind.

Obviously, a lot of people involved with Volkswagen's emissions were aware of the diesel car software cheat. One has to wonder how many of them tried to stop it and perhaps were demoted or lost their jobs over trying to prevent the secret Volkswagen car emissions fraud?

With God, being lost is nothing more than an idea that never has and never will be anything more than an idea.

Its the actions one produces that will lead them toward the unknown.

I used to spend so much time reacting and responding to everyone else that my life had no direction. Other people's lives, problems, and wants set the course for my life. Once I realized it was okay for me to think about and identify what I wanted, remarkable things began to take place in my life.

For you are you, and I am I, and once we were we… but as long as I exist and so do you – know that I will always love you.

If we take the widest and wisest view of a Cause, there is no such thing as a Lost Cause because there is no such thing as a Gained Cause. We fight for lost causes because we know that our defeat and dismay may be the preface to our successors’ victory, though that victory itself will be temporary; we fight rather to keep something alive than in the expectation that anything will triumph.

In that moment, I felt differently to myself yet the essence of who I really was.Like a perfect state of balance.

You will never be lost to me, Selinne.

Great battles that prevail in actions had been won or lost earlier in thoughts. When the mind resists change, it’s in vain the legs chase it!

It was in the in-between time when he felt lost.

Not to discover the love of God is to be lost in life

Are you . . . lost?” “Not really,” she told him. “We just don’t know where we’re going.

Human kind is on one big power trip that is ripping the sole out of the subtleness and kindness of the human spirit

She looks like an empty shell of a woman with her soul hovering above her. We believe in spiritual guías in Santo Domingo. Hers is her own self. I can see Mami’s soul desperately trying to find its way back into her small body.

Before your reach your destination, you'll find yourself going through the wilderness. There's some survival skills that you'll need master through the wilderness journey. While in the wilderness, your faith will be tried and tested. You'll become humble. Your vision for your life will get clearer. You're in training for your purpose. You'll lose some friends, because there's some folks who are only with you because of where they think your journey will lead THEM. Don't worry, they're a little confused... but it was meant for them to get lost during this phase. Walk on. Continue on your journey. Soon, you'll be approaching the mountain. Get ready to climb!

War doesn't have heroes, it only has the men who lost so many things in their life that they just keep going and do the most unthinkable things, just because they don't care anymore.

I only have one story now.The story was heroin. It was made out of sensation, not words; it was invisible and murderous and unstoppable. Sam disappeared from her slowly, like a snowman melting, until all Blanca had left of him was a pool of freezing-cold blue water, arctic cold, sorrow colored, evaporating with every year. She did her best to hold onto him, but it was impossible, like carrying ice into the desert or making time stand still. After the final fight when Sam moved out, Blanca saw him less and less often. He no longer had a presence; he was like the outline of a person, an absence rather than a full-fledged human being.

The reality is that people reach for a Bible when they're feeling lost. But if they hadn't shelved it, maybe they wouldn't have gotten lost.

What could be a destination for a lost, when there is no will to move on anymore?

They say the truth hurts. And these words hurt more than any I have ever written. But they are the truth – The cold, hard, undeniable truth.Not letting go doesn’t keep him with you.It’s still over. He’s still gone.… And nothing will ever change that.

I wished to no longer hear the grayed bones crunching underneath the brush or feel the now inexorable fear that seemed to work its way inside my rib cage, rocking me at my core.

This feeling of being in proximity to something that’s lost to you, it seems like my whole life right now.

Even when you’d lost everything you thought there was to lose, somebody came along and gave you something for free.

The quickest way to get over something you loved and lost is to get another one.

Faith can never be lost.It can only be misplaced.

There is nothing to be lost by experimenting with the sickened human mind and body.

The love that I believe in is something that goes beyond the physical aspects of this world. The love that I believe is one that extends its energy and power through the beautiful souls that I encounter along the way, a love that can be seen in the eyes of a little dog or in the confusion of a cute lost cat who wants to be worshiped like a Goddess. This kind of love goes through a divine crafting of a person's inner self, through personal experience and thousands of years of tears and strength, that can only be seen in the familiar eyes of old souls, the eyes that recognize each other even after long times of separation, the eyes that find themselves familiar with places they have probably been to before, but that nevertheless bring great memories with every visit. This kind of love sees hope in the eyes of new-born children that know way much more than they are capable of putting into words and that bring with their innocence a smile on each person's face who'd wish they could start again. The love that I see when I look at you is a love which has roots deep inside each of us, but that needs care and light to grow and unfold its branches so that they can reach outside of ourselves and even further beyond the skies.

I ask for no forgiveness father for I have not sinned, I have only done what I needed to do to survive. A small boy once asked me if I was a bad man, if I could answer him now I would tell him, that when I was a young boy I killed a man to save my brothers life. I am not sorry for this, I am proud of this. I did not ask for the life that I was given but it was given none the less, and with it I did my best.

Now, after so many years, I understand what the Coldness was and where it came from—this sense that everything is lost, and worthless, and meaningless.

I pulled the sheet off their faces. Their faces were black with coal dust and didn't look like anything was wrong with them except they were dirty. The both of them had smiles on their faces. I thought maybe one of them had told a joke just before they died and, pain and all, they both laughed and ended up with a smile. Probably not true but but it made me feel good to think about it like that, and when the Sister came in I asked her if I could clean their faces and she said, "no, certainly not!" but I said, "ah, c'mon, it's me brother n' father, I want to," and she looked at me and looked at me, and at last she said, "of course, of course, I'll get some soap and water."When the nun came back she helped me. Not doing it, but more like showing me how, and taking to me, saying things like "this is a very handsome man" and "you must have been proud of your brother" when I told her how Charlie Dave would fight for me, and "you're lucky you have another brother"; of course I was, but he was younger and might change, but she talked to me and made it all seem normal, the two of us standing over a dead face and cleaning the grit away. The only other thing I remember a nun ever saying to me was, "Mairead, you get to your seat, this minute!

Some things were better lost than found.

I write what I love.I will not stop – even when my hand hurts….…. because I cannot stop – even though my heart hurts….

The paralyzing fear of being lost is fed solely by the irrational fear that we will never be found.

It is through experience that I have lost faith in USA law enforcement.

I just want to be someone, to mean something to anyone…

She could spin it between her legs, skip with it, twirl it around her neck and transfer it from one arm to the other. Shelly hooped because she enjoyed it; it calmed her whenever she would have an argument or a bad day at school, and it also allowed her to think. Today, she needed to hoop more than ever.

In some strange way, any new fact or insight that I may have found has not seemed to me as a “discovery” of mine, but rather something that had always been there and that I had chanced to pick up.

You lost your son, but reality he is alive, my father I lost him I know on 99% he is dead if this is faken okay, I will know that he is alive, but who knows?? I haven't met him after I lost him, you met your son didn't you?? And then you lost him, it sounds fair does it?? (Storm Of The Century by Stephen King)

Even places you know well can take on a touch of the unknown when you arrive there from a different direction.

If you’re searching for a quote that puts your feelings into words – you won’t find it.You can learn every language and read every word ever written – but you’ll never find what’s in your heart.How can you?He has it.

Travel if you wish, taste strange dishes, gather experience in dangerous activities, but see that your soul remains your own. Do not become a stranger to yourself, for you are lost from that day on; you will have no peace if there is not, somewhere within you, a corner of certainty, calm waters where you can take refuge in sleep.

I wanted to go to him to save me, but he was the one who broke me this time.

Writing a story or a novel is one way of discovering sequence in experience, of stumbling upon cause and effect in the happenings of a writer's own life. This has been the case with me. Connections slowly emerge. Like distant landmarks you are approaching, cause and effect begin to align themselves, draw closer together. Experiences too indefinite of outline in themselves to be recognized for themselves connect and are identified as a larger shape. And suddenly a light is thrown back, as when your train makes a curve, showing that there has been a mountain of meaning rising behind you on the way you've come, is rising there still, proven now through retrospect. Writing fiction has developed in me an abiding respect for the unknown in a human lifetime and a sense of where to look for the threads, how to follow, how to connect, find in the thick of the tangle what clear line persists. The strands are all there: to the memory nothing is ever lost.

Sometimes tomorrow never comes and you’re only left with the memories of yesterdays.

It hurts to be lost. You go native because it's better to be wrong than to be lost.

She wondered how it would feel to be beautiful and have it taken away. How much harder would it be than never knowing what it felt like in the first place?

There is love of course. And then there's life, its enemy.

I couldn't say, "I lost the best thing that ever happened to me." Wasn't that punishment enough?

THAT crazed girl improvising her music.Her poetry, dancing upon the shore,Her soul in division from itselfClimbing, falling She knew not where,Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship,Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declareA beautiful lofty thing, or a thingHeroically lost, heroically found.No matter what disaster occurredShe stood in desperate music wound,Wound, wound, and she made in her triumphWhere the bales and the baskets layNo common intelligible soundBut sang, 'O sea-starved, hungry sea

The art of losing isn't hard to master. I,ve done it

She's lost in thought. I'm lost in her.

Thomas had no concept of time as he went through the Changing.It started much like his first memory of the Box—dark and cold. But this time he had no sensation of anything touching his feet or body. He floated in emptiness, stared into a void of black. He saw nothing, heard nothing, smelled nothing. It was as if someone had stolen his five senses, leaving him in a vacuum.Time stretched on. And on. Fear turned into curiosity, which turned into boredom.Finally, after an interminable wait, things began to change.A distant wind picked up, unfelt but heard. Then a swirling mist of whiteness appeared far in the distance—a spinning tornado of smoke that formed into a long funnel, stretching out until he could see neither the top nor the bottom of the white whirlwind. He felt the gales then, sucking into the cyclone so that it blew past him from behind, ripping at his clothes and hair like they were shredded flags caught in a storm.The tower of thick mist began to move toward him—or he was moving toward it, he couldn’t tell—increasing its speed at an alarming rate. Where seconds before he’d been able to see the distinct form of the funnel, he now could see only a flat expanse of white.And then it consumed him; he felt his mind taken by the mist, felt memories flood into his thoughts.Everything else turned into pain.

Never give a person a piece of your mind when all you really wanted to do was give them a piece of your heart.

Could it be that we lost something because had we not lost it, we would have lost ourselves?

Espere" in Spanish, is the one word covering two meanings: "waiting" and "hoping". If life, however, offers no expectation or prospect, waiting represents time "wasted”. Waiting needs a future. If not, time is condemned to be "killed". In the event that we are lost in a gap of boredom and despair, we are driven back in a vacuum of senselessness and deadlocked in a point of nothingness. We are, so therefore, bound to watch the agony of "time". ("Waiting for a place behind the geraniums " )

It seemed to him that the little Manchu had never looked so radiant. She gave him a most charming smile, but her eyes were all for the boy.

Only you can change your own world. No one else.

If you cannot hold me in your arms, then hold my memory in high regard.And if I cannot be in your life, then at least let me live in your heart.

We pretended she'd only gotten lost in the colors of fall.Piper