Best 4819 quotes in «loss quotes» category

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.

If you Can If you can give me, give me a chance, to show you my love and my never ending romance, If you can show me, show me a way, where we could be together and time could stay, If you can tell me, tell me the reason why ?, you left me, without knowing whether I'll live or die, If you can help me, help me with my pain, shrink my heart that much, that nothing else will remain, If you see through, see through my eyes, the big pain you gave me, and the small lies, If you can love me, love me one more time, fulfil all the promises and lets go back in time

If you can't tell your story to another human, find another way: journal, paint, make your grief into a graphic novel with a very dark storyline. Or go out to the woods and tell the trees. It is an immense relief to be able to tell your story without someone trying to fix it. The trees will not ask, "How are you really?" and the wind doesn't care if you cry.

If you don't know a name, you can't be hurt when they go. I have no friends anymore, all are lost.

If you fail to understand the meaning of a word in a sentence, the essence of what is being communicated could be lost or distorted

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

If you keep picking at that scab on your heart, it won't heal.

If you lose something, do not worry.

If you lose money in business, you can still cover up the loss. If you lose time, the only thing you have by your side is wreckage.

If you lose someone, you feel a loss, then after a while you fill in the hole in your life and the loss gradually gets smaller and smaller and eventually goes away. There's a point to the pain. There's a reason and a direction.

If you love something, know that it will leave on a day you are far from ready.

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.

If you’re really listening, if you’re awake to the poignant beauty of the world, your heart breaks regularly. In fact, your heart is made to break; its purpose is to burst open again and again so it can hold evermore wonders. -Andrew Harvey

If you think about someone you've loved and lost, you are already with them. The rest is just details.

If you’ve ever lost someone that you love, and I say ‘love’ and not ‘loved’ because even when they’re gone, you still love them, you know that never goes away, but your life changes.

If you walk around proudly when someone greets you with respect or says, ‘welcome, welcome’, you will suffer a loss, right? Here, it was the other person’s duty [social obligation] to welcome you, but you shouldn’t fall short. So you should immediately check your balance-sheet (of karma) to find out where you sustained a loss!

If you want to find money, focus on people. If you want to lose people, focus on money.

If you want to see the beauty of any fish, throw it into the water, you will see how best it can swim because that is its source. Do you want to see the beauty in you? Don't look in the mirror, don't put on makeups, no jewelleries or expensive designer clothes, just go back and reconnect to your source and I bet, the best of you will show up. Until you return back to God, your best won't come out because He is your source.

If you were me you’d do the right thing, help your friends, because you’re not a coward,” Mandy sighed sadly. “I covered up a murder because I was scared to go to jail and I did the wrong thing… well, now’s my chance to do the right thing, to save someone’s life, because I don’t want you to die.” “Save someone’s life? I’m no one,” Alecto laughed morbidly. “A hundred and twelve years is definitely way too long to have survived. You’d be wasting your time and risking your own life….” “This is my life,” Mandy declared, smiling sincerely. Alecto just looked concerned and very doubtful as the rain drizzled down the roads and sidewalks, towards the harbour where it fell into the ocean, indistinguishable from all the other water in the world.

I gave up drinking before my twentieth birthday. I haven’t touched the stuff since. And I’ve discovered that not everyone who does horrible things is a horrible person.

I guess I was lucky I didn't drown, or smother in the thick, black, icy mud that the river left behind in its slow withdrawal back within its banks. I didn't feel lucky. When I regained consciousness, my head and ribs winning the battle with the rest of my body for sharp, almost unbearable pain, my first thought was Chrissy. Chrissy, pulled away from me by the merciless power of the water. Chrissy, lost somewhere, maybe injured, calling for me and I wasn't there for her. Chrissy, beautiful, wonderful Chrissy, quite probably lying in the mud, dead! My scream of anguish, of pain and loss, echoed through the empty Liverpool streets. There was no shame or embarrassment in that shout, that bellow of emotion. I had lost the woman I loved. Nothing I’d ever felt compared to the agony, the gut-wrenching loss of that moment. I cried. I sat there in the middle of a street I didn't recognise, not knowing how far the wave had carried me, and cried.

I guess it's the same way trees grow around the very vines that are killing them, so they're strangled and sustained all at once. After a long time, even pain can be a comfort.

I guess that's what pain can do if you allow it: crack you open, let light in, and show you what's on the inside.

I guess when someone's gone from your life for a while, all you think about are the big things. The big regrets, the could-have, should-haves. Or the big moments, the memories that are going to be with you forever, those life-changing moments, like first kisses and first confessions and first trusts. And you think about the lasts too: the last kiss, the last words, the last moments.

Good had defeated evil, people proclaimed, a justification for atrocities best left forgotten. They would cling to this oversimplified truth while trading pats on the back and placing flowers on graves.

I had a daily bliss I half indifferent viewed, Till sudden I perceived it stir,— It grew as I pursued, Till when, around a crag, It wasted from my sight, Enlarged beyond my utmost scope, I learned its sweetness right.

[...] I had to press against the Plexiglas to feel the blood and body heat of his loss, stare hard at the loss so I could remember how its face was shaped, the exact color of its eyes, something to get me through the next year of living with my husband and not his loss, but the lack of his loss, a bleached-out version of it, a numb heart that hosted something with a real heart and pulse and wildness because my husband had only the most basic pulse and absolutely no wildness, but his loss was wild, was wild and filled with fast blood, and I could understand that angry bright red thing.

I had no intention of forsaking my wedding vows. I had strong morals and never could have imagined going against them. I was never even tempted to stray.

I had often said that I would write, the wives of geniuses I have sat with. I have sat with so many. I have sat with wives who were not wives, of geniuses who were real geniuses. I have sat with real wives of geniuses who were not real geniuses. In short, I have sat very often and very long with many wives and wives of many geniuses.' Gertrude Stein wrote this in the voice of her partner, Alice B. Toklas, Stein being apparently the genius, Alice apparently the wife. 'I am nothing,' Alice said after Gertrude dies, 'but a memory of her.' ...the flashing blues and red made him look ill, then well, then ill again...

I had someone once who made every day mean something. And now…. I am lost…. And nothing means anything anymore.

I had to get used to it because my life was no longer safe and I was no longer protected like I once was.

I haunted and interrogated the past even as it interrogated me. London, Skinner's Lane, Brook Street, the Sudan - how had we passed all that time? Why did we not burn up every moment of it, as we would if we could have it all again? The journey back to England surfaced in dreams and occupied my days, the train to Wadi Halfa panting across the desert, reading old newspapers in the white, shuttered carriages while Taha, alas, was obliged to travel with the guard; and the stops, which had no names, but only a number, painted on a little shelter beside the track; and the steamer to the first Cateract and the visionary beauty of Aswan.

I have always been a fire, and everyone I loved walked away as ashes, until I met a phoenix who was born to love flames.

I have cried over myself a hundred times this summer, she thought, I have wept over my big feet and my skinny legs and my nose, I have even cried over my stupid shoes, and now when I have true sadness there are no tears left.

I have been at war with parts of myself for so long

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?

I have loved and lost in so many different ways. And I have died endless deaths… So when I ask myself, the question today, who am I? My answer is…I do not know.

I had just turned thirty. That was enough in itself to be depressed about. I never thought I would be this age and feel this worthless. I was supposed to be “somebody.” I guess you could say I was slightly disappointed at the outcome.

I hadn’t understood at the time. If sinners were so unhappy,why would they prefer their suffering? But now I knew why. Without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my past was my life.

I hate the way the world feels when love is gone

I have a RAGING SEA inside of me, trying to break free from ALL of me.

I have ceased and desisted from smiling The frosty wind chills lips - say so long To one hope of which will be lesser, Instead there will be one more song. And this song, without my volition, I will give out for laughter and parable, For this that the silence of love Is to me simply unbearable.

I have been loved," she said, "by something strange, and it has forgotten me.

I have never been sad because my losses are my profits

I have loved and lost many a time, but along the way I have found myself.

I have suffered a loss, Forrest, far greater than my legs. It's my spirit, my soul, if you will. There is only a blank there now - medals where my soul used to be.

I have suffered great losses and have been blessed with great consolations, but whatever life may give me or take away, this is the simple wisdom that will always light my life: I have loved, passionately, fearlessly, with all my heart and all my soul, and I have been loved in return. For me, this is enough.

I have the strength to stand before you and talk about loss because I spent my entire life practicing the art of saying goodbye.

I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it when I sorrow most; 'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all. Verse XXVII

Hush a-bye my little bird Hush a-bye my child I have lost a love so great Oh, woe is me.