Lost Quotes - Page 5

I don’t think you ever really understood….…. All the love I had in the world went to you.

Yesterday, I got lost.You did too.So what?People get lost all the time.It's just a matter of finding yourself, and treasuring that.

it's a lot easier to be lost than found.

My sister is running away to get lost, but I am running away because I want to find something. And my parents love me so much that they want to help me. Yeah, Dad is a drunk and Mom is an ex-drunk, but they don't want their kids to be drunks.

You're reaching outAnd no one hears you cryYou're freaking out again'Cause all your fearsRemind you another dream has come undoneYou feel so small and lost like you're the only oneYou wanna scream 'cause you'reDesperateYou want somebody, just anybodyTo lay their hands on your soul tonightYou want a reason to keep believin'That someday you're gonna see the lightYou're in the darkThere's no one left to callAnd sleep's your only friendWell even sleepCan't hide you from all those tearsAnd all the pain and all the daysYou wasted pushin' them awayIt's your life, it's time you face it

Othalas: Words. What are they but shadows on a page or howling on the wind? They are as ever-changing as the mists below us and it is just as easy to lose sense of yourself among them. I am older than most sorcerers so what I know may, indeed, be close to the truth. Magic, wyrd, words, dreams, they all come from the spirit. Within them lie both power and peril. For to misuse any is to warp your sense of self. To lie in words, or in magic, or in dreams -- that is how you become lost. The lights you see, they were lost long before they came to the Vale.

The only place I ever felt at home was with you. There isn’t a place for me anywhere anymore… I’ve been evicted.

We are forlorn like children, and experienced like old men, we are crude and sorrowful and superficial—I believe we are lost.

I didn't know how to tell him that I hadn't lost the instinct to survive and yet at the same time I didn't feel much need for self-preservation, that somehow there was a distinction between the two.

Jesus showed compassion for the hurting and the lost, and so should you.

The aching in my chest isn't because I miss you,it's realizing that you have become someone I no longer know,your fears, your 4 am thoughts, your achievements,are things I no longer have an equivalent to.Who we were and who we are are four different people, and the me from now doesn't relate to the me from then, let alone to the you from now.-Tanzy Sayadi and Jarod Kintz

Poetry is a storm asking peace to dance with her.

I came "here" to get "there." Do I have any fucking clue what "there" is? Hell the fuck no. I'm just trying to live in a world of the dead.

Sometimes it's your fragrance that comes to me, out of the blue, on a crowded road in a Sunday afternoon.But more often, it's memories of us that cross my mind almost every lone evening.All I want is to lessen the pain I feel every night.But every morning I wake up is another day, hopeless and miserable, with nothing but a deafening silence, a wave of tears, memories and your absence.

I lost my family,” he says softly. The tone of his voice justifies my earlier regret. “If you have nothing to love, you have nothing to lose. Even your own life becomes meaningless.

The more older we get, less question we ask. We have lost contacts, we have lost and the curiosity of the things.

And when it's really maddening—You echo in mind Dreaming you and me makes me highThis weakness in no time This craving all the time Thought of cuddling you I can't stop even for a whileJust want to sleep in your arms day and nightwhy your songs every time why you don't go out of sightReading you in quotes line by line Dreams of our home before dying Nights are broken quiet Talking to you is an urge Everyday FightDeep silent shouts why I don't want to take you out Parties are over I just stand lost in corners. It's blue even in laughs People ask why silence even in noise It's like beyond you there is no life why these roads These long night walks I just don't stopwhy it's so cold why sky calls why can't I see you why there is Moon

Art is anything you can get lost in. A place to escape and a place to find yourself.

If you do not believe you are a lost sheep, then you do not need a Savior who is the Good Shepherd Jesus Christ. John 10:11-14.

I realise now that I wanted to disappear. To get so lost that nobody ever found me. To go so far away that I'd never be able to make my way home again. But I have no idea why.

You are lost because you have not been being honest with yourself, and your life is largely unexamined and unexerted.

And then the queen wept with all her heart. Not for the cruel and greedy man who had warred and killed and savaged everywhere he could. But for the boy who had somehow turned into that man, the boy whose gentle hand had comforted her childhood hurts, the boy whose frightened voice had cried out to her at the end of his life, as if he wondered why he had gotten lost inside himself, as if he realized that it was too, too late to get out again.

The reason my life has wandered to nowhere is likely due to the fact that the focus of the moment has dictated the destination of my life, when the destination of my life should have been dictating the focus of the moment.

Behold,' said the Voice, 'earthly beauty. It is nothing but seeming, for to the uninstructed eye the world appears fruitful and sweet, yet in it is nothing but a pile of skulls, showing where others were lost as they went before.

The moment you start arguing with an ignorant fool, you have already lost.

Maybe that's what writers do-Maybe they exaggerate pain just so that you feel okay about what you're feeling.

Lydia displays her right hand and instantly bathed the room with a blinding light. It lasted only a moment before it drew back into her palm. “I can fix you if you’re ever broken.

...We lost our faith and went around wondering what life was for. If art was no more than a frustrated out-flinging of desire, if religion was no more than self-delusion, what good was life? Faith had always given us answers to all things. But it all went down the drain with Freud and Darwin. We were and still are a lost people.

You think you know me, but I'm not sure that even I know who I am anymore.

Lost. The therapist made it sound as if the person could be found. As if death wasn’t final and irrevocable.

It hurts that I was just one page in the book of your life…But what hurts more is knowing you’ll revise that chapter someday….….. and you’ll erase me completely.

I hate tears,it makes it easy to forget someone.

But, is it more important to stay true to yourself, to what you believe in, or give it up for someone you care about?”Lisa gives me a warm smile and her hand finds mine on the table.“There is no right answer to that.” She squeezes my hand hard. “It depends on so many things. You are the one who has to choose, to find the balance between what you believe in and what you care about. It’s a game with high risk—you can lose someone you care about but still have your pride, or…you can lose yourself for someone you care about.” She gets up from her seat. “The real question is—is ‘care’ good enough to be lost for?

Most people believe the journey they begin with Christ goes forward, but that is not how he works. A spiritual life is not cutting ties with people, in order to walk clean in the future. The journey home isn't running away from obstacles. It is learning to stand where you are now and handle people, assert yourself, set boundaries and never feel your happiness is dependent on another person's approval of your choices, beliefs or spiritual needs.

Many people know they're working, but not what they're working.

Live BOLDLY! ......because no one ever told you healing is a life long process.

I raised you so high that every other man on earth is now doomed to live in your shadow.

If people feel lost and alone and helpless and broken and hopeless today, what will it be like if the world really begins to come apart at the hinges?

I believe that we are lost here in America, but I believe we shall be found. And this belief, which mounts now to the catharsis of knowledge and conviction, is for me--and I think for all of us--not only our own hope, but America's everlasting, living dream.

Why would a white caribou come down to Beaver River, where the woodland herd lives? Why would she leave the Arctic tundra, where the light blazes incandescent, to haunt these shadows? Why would any caribou leave her herd to walk, solitary, thousands of miles? The herd is comfort. The herd is a fabric you can't cut or tear, passing over the land. If you could see the herd from the sky, if you were a falcon or a king eider, it would appear like softly floating gauze over the face of the snow, no more substantial than a cloud. "We are soft," the herd whispers. "We have no top teeth. We do not tear flesh. We do not tear at any part of life. We are gentleness itself. Why would any of us break from the herd? Break, apart, separate, these are hard words. The only reason any of us would become one, and not part of the herd, is if she were lost.

Pandora's Box could not be unopened, no one could return to Eden.

I have lost you, my brotherAnd your death has ended The spring seasonOf my happiness, our house is buried with youAnd buried the laughter that you taught me.There are no thoughts of love nor of poemsIn my head Since you died.

I love letting my soul soar on a summer breeze, or getting entranced by the rhythm of the sea. It carries you off on its currents until you’re completely lost and then drops you back on the shores of reality with salt on your cheeks and grains of dreams running through your fingers like sand. It’s almost an occasional necessity – I guess because when you get completely, fantastically, dizzyingly lost you’re temporarily suspended between what has been and what could be. In those first moments when you come back up for air, or when you float back down to the ground, you’re living in the land of possibility, where you understand that reality can stretch just as far as you’re willing to dream.

When I stopped loving, I lost purpose; When I stopped loving myself, I lost myself.

It’s for the best. But no matter how many times I repeat it, the strange, hollow feeling in my stomach doesn’t go away. And ridiculous as it is, I can’t shake the persistent, needling feeling that I’ve forgotten something, or missed something, or lost something forever.

WHEN I WAS LOST IN DARKNESS,I FELT MYSELF LIKE ARMLESS,MY HEART BECOME HOPELESS,ALL I HAD WAS MY WEAKNESS,TILL I FIND MORNING BRIGHTNESS

Have we ever thought that being lost is our destination?

When we feel lost in time, with only shadows of the past living in our mind; when the moment, which “was", no longer "is” and when only silence remains, loads of questions arise. We can cry a river or we may wonder: “What went wrong?

We are all lost souls until we are found.

If you fear to know the cost, the value will definitely be lost. Focus your attentions on the product, not the price.

A thought experiment courtesy of the Stoics. If you are tired of everything you possess, imagine that you have lost all these things.

When joy is LOST, hope can easily FIND it... It's only your HOPE, that knows the where about of your JOY! If you lose hope you lose everything!

I look upon every day to be lost in which I do not make a new acquaintance.

Maybe it would feel nice. Maybe it wouldn't feel like a betrayal. Besides, who was I betraying, anyway? Just myself.

Sometimes my mind goes dark, and every single part of my life goes dark with it. Any happiness I thought I knew gets replaced by a sadness so big it must be for the whole world. I convince myself that I have nothing to offer, and that nobody has anything to offer me, either. I commit to hopelessness. In these dark moments I remind myself, ( because I’d be too lost without the reminder) that what I'm feeling isn't the full truth of the world, not by miles, and that though I can't see it, nothing is as dire as the nightmare my mind conjures, and that i, and the world, will be okay. In time, with hope. Slowly I come out of the darkness again. I reject my mind's devotion to misery and fear, and reroute myself on a path of acceptance and love. I focus on the beauty in our world, and in myself, and I remember that we are family, all of us, and we each matter. We each shine. Certainly.

Getting lost is not fatal. Almost every time, it will make your world.

We look around us and we find ourselves confused as to why the world has fallen into such deep darkness. And standing in this descending darkness, what we need to realize is that the farther we move from God, the darker everything gets. And no light of man can illuminate that kind of darkness.

It always came down to his freaking pride.

I’m so used to planning for guys, dressing and undressing for them and trying to morph myself into their dream girl. I’m so used to it that I don’t really know where that girl ends and the real me begins. I suppose what it comes down to is confidence. I’m confident in that girl, the one who emerges from my walk-in wearing lingerie when I’m done getting ready. But at Faye’s house, I’m not going to be that girl. I’m going to be me. Whoever that is anymore.

If I were born a woman, my clothes would be for any man with rough hands to tear down and my body to be made love to by any heart lost enough to love