#lost

Weeping is not the same thing as crying, It takes your whole body to weep, and when it's over, you feel like you don't have any bones left to hold you up. ↗

— Sarah Ockler

#death #lost #love #tragedy #weeping

When I was a child, all problems had ended with a single word from my father. A smile from him was sunshine, his scowl a bolt of thunder. He was smart, and generous, and honorable without fail. He could exile a trespasser, check my math homework, and fix the leaky bathroom sink, all before dinner. For the longest time, I thought he was invincible. Above the petty problems that plagued normal people. And now he was gone. ↗

— Rachel Vincent

#father #faythe-sanders #lost #love #death

Black for hunting through the night For death and sorrow, the color’s white Gold for a bride in her wedding gown, And red to call enchantment down. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#shadowhunter #death

Trebalo bi ubijati prošlost sa svakim danom što se ugasi. Izbrisati je da ne postoji, da ne boli. Lakše bi se podnosio dan što traje, ne bi se merio onim što više ne postoji. Ovako se mešaju utvare i život, pa nema ni čistog sećanja, ni čistog života. ↗

— Meša Selimović

#život #death

I think anyone who opened their heart enough to love without restraint and subsequently were devastated by loss knows that in that moment you are forever changed; a apart of you is no longer whole. Some will never again love with that level of abandon where life is perceived as innocent and the threat of loss seems implausible. Love and loss, therefore, are linked. ↗

— Donna Lynn Hope

#lost-love #love-and-loss #change

If you have ever lost someone very important to you, then you already know how it feels; and if you haven’t, you cannot possibly imagine it. ↗

— Lemony Snicket

#lost-someone #death

She made the decision that her existence had lost its meaning. And you cannot judge that. ↗

— Jack Kevorkian

#decision #existence #had #her #judge

We lost everything. We even won our own constituency. ↗

— Maryon Pearson

#even #everything #lost #our #own

آموخت که آدم به غیبت عادت می­کند و این عادت به نبودن عزیزان از نبودنشان ناگوارتر است. ↗

— Marcel Proust

#immigration #lost #missing-someone #death

A única coisa que havia ali dentro era uma cama sem colchão, que ele olhava fixamente. Em cima dela, sua mãe teria chorado e tremido de medo. Em cima dela, teria lamentado sua vida, sofrido as dores do ventre e as do coração. Em cima dela, sua mãe teria conhecido sua desimportância, teria entendido que o mundo podia muito bem continuar sem ela. Em cima dela, sua mãe talvez tivesse desejado morrer. Enfim, em cima daquela cama, sua mãe acabou tendo seu encontro fatal com a morte. E, diante dela, se encontrava agora a explicação para toda aquela dor. ↗

— Camilo Gomes Jr.

#infância-perdida #lost-childhood #morte #death