When you lose something in your life, stop thinking it's a loss for you... it is a gift you have been given so you can get on the right path to where you are meant to go, not to where you think you should have gone.
The divisions of Perspective are 3, as used in drawing; of these, the first includes the diminution in size of opaque objects; the second treats of the diminution and loss of outline in such opaque objects; the third, of the diminution and loss of colour at long distances.
For what shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, and suffer the loss of his soul?
She heard him mutter, 'Can you take away this grief?''I'm sorry,' she replied. 'Everyone asks me. And I would not do so even if I knew how. It belongs to you. Only time and tears take away grief; that is what they are for.
A man always finds it hard to realize that he may have finally lost a woman's love, however badly he may have treated her.
Life seems sometimes like nothing more than a series of losses, from beginning to end. That's the given. How you respond to those losses, what you make of what's left, that's the part you have to make up as you go.
One of the first businesses of a sensible man is to know when he is beaten, and to leave off fighting at once.
Show me a good loser and I'll show you an idiot.
Show me a good loser and I will show you a loser.
Tis better to have loved and lost. Than never to have loved at all.
When the flower blossoms, the bee will come.
I am part of what she thinks is her illness, a symptom of which she thinks she has been cured. She, on the other hand, is what I was looking for.
I look back to where my life had been. It's always risky to think of letting go. That's why this is the perfect ending. Nothing left to reconcile.
Grief is in two parts. The first is loss. The second is the remaking of life.
And then there's the truth beyond that, sitting like an old rock under green creek water: none of these things matter. Right now, in this moment, we have love. We have it in the sound of my daughter's laugher, in Mom's and Georgia's locked fingers, in the warm pressure of J.T.'s hand. It will leave, and it will come again, and when it does I'll give up everything and take it. Just like an addict. Like dry grass in new rain. It's not something I'm proud of necessarily. Then again, maybe I am.
the reverse side of love is unbearable loss.
Remembering. Forgetting. I'm not sure which is worse.
I think there were times when I was so afraid of losing you that I forgot I even had you at all.
How we respond to grief can shape our present
How do people know they are sane? Can a person be gripped by lunacy, only to be released a short time later, never to relive the episode again?
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