#loss

I feel we are becoming divergent upon the paths we are walking down. I feel we are becoming distant, as the way we see things becomes more pronounced. I feel I know you less, where once I knew you like I knew myself before. I fear that in the end, we will become no more. When that guillotine descends, friend will be friend no longer. As time ascends, we will move forward on different paths in life's Wonderland. ↗

— Jennifer Megan Varnadore

#life

I stopped in St. Bernadette's Cemetery one of my favorite places... The trunks of six giant oaks rise like columns supporting a ceiling formed by their interlocking crowns. In the quiet space below, is laid out an aisle similar to those in any library. The gravestones are like rows of books bearing the names of those whose names have been blotted from the pages of life; who have been forgotten elsewhere but are remembered here. ↗

— Dean Koontz

#library-books #loss #remeberance #life

I feel like people are only really dead once you stop learning about them. This is why it is important to me to keep learning about my mother, and what she wanted, and what her life meant, what she meant by the life she led. Then she will be alive, somehow, and her wish for me will have come true. My vow is to learn more about her. To see her as she saw herself. ↗

— Liz Moore

#life

Why are roses kept for their blossoms rather than shunned for their thorns? ↗

— J. Aleksandr Wootton

#blossom #philosophy-of-beauty #price-of-beauty #roses #thorns

That’s how it felt – that the loss of him had a life of its own. I lived with it as I could have lived with him. Some nights it was quiet and sometimes it pounded on my door. ↗

— Kimberly Novosel

#loss #love #quiet #relationships #life

I think about my mother singing after lunch on a Summer afternoon, twirling in blue dress across the floor of her dressing room ↗

— Audrey Niffenegger

#happiness #loss #love #memory #mother

And gradually his memory slipped a little, as memories do, even those with so much love attached to them; as if there is an unconscious healing process within the mind which mends up in spite of our desperate determination never to forget. ↗

— Colleen McCullough

#loss #love #memories #love

What can you say about a twenty-five-year-old girl who died? ↗

— Erich Segal

#first-lines #loss #opening-lines #love

She has been surprised by grief, its constancy, its immediacy, its unrelenting physical pain. ↗

— Michelle Latiolais

#loss #lost-love #pain #sadness #love

Sometimes it takes great suffering to pierce the soul and open it up to greatness ↗

— Jocelyn Murray

#greatness #loss #love #pain #soul