loss

...I__ tired of everyone looking at me with pity in their eyes. I__ tired of feeling like my heart is being ripped out of my chest every damned day. I__ tired of waking up in the morning, and then remembering...

Max, for some people there are no victories, just alternate forms of losing.

This ploughman dead in battle slept out of doorsMany a frozen night, and merrilyAnswered staid drinkers, good bedmen, and all bores:"At Mrs Greenland's Hawthorn Bush," said he,"I slept." None knew which bush. Above the town,Beyond `The Drover', a hundred spot the downIn Wiltshire. And where now at last he sleepsMore sound in France -that, too, he secret keeps.

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.

But she's still afraid that the more she misses him--his face, his skin, the way he looked at her--and the more hope she has that she'll see him again, the more she has to lose.

Watch people when they win, and you will learn something. But watch them when they lose, and you will learn even more.

The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that.

EnragedI throw myself to the ground and I scream,my best friend is gone, this world is so mean.I cry as I pound my fists on his grass,I__ very upset that our time went so fast.My heart beats faster than ever before,my tears unstoppable, I'm hurt to the core.There are no words people can say,that will ease my excruciating pain.I don__ understand why you had to go.You leaving me, we just didn__ know.I__l make it somehow, I__l start anew.But, there is no way I can replace you.I struggle to make it through each day,and retain my sanity in this foggy haze.The sadness and pain that I display,is because God decided to take you away.

Paco, we are all so much more than our faults, aren__ we?

I would do almost anything for him to kiss me; his possessive lips and eager tongue invading my mouth, even the thought sent tingles up my numb spine and lifeless body

That is fundamentally the only courage which is demanded of us: to be brave in the face of the strangest, most singular and most inexplicable things that can befall us

But it turns out Joy is a house built from the same bricks as Sorrow. Pleasure is a poem, and it uses the same words as Pain.

She let him go once. Every day demands that she release him over and over again.

Loss is a part of life, that doesn't make it easy... that makes it inevitable...

The sudden loss of her father was like living with a wound that would never heal, yet her memories of him were fading more and more every day.

The more one loves, the heavier the meaning of death becomes, and the deeper the sense of loss.

With a snarling face, fangs and blood red eyes, she had lunged at him and secured her mouth to his throat before he had even had time enough to scream. It had been the most terrifying moment of his life. Only two thoughts had occupied his mind; surviving to see Angela again, and the sensation of hearing his own heart beat fade away. Amelia had fed from him for what felt like hours, but that he knew couldn__ have been very long, as Angela never came to see what had become of him. He lay in the dirt, with Amelia hunched over his limp body, with the sound of his own, failing breath in his ears and the bloodthirsty sound of someone sucking out his blood.

There was always a big party on the night before anyone left for the States. They called it an American wake, because the whole community stayed up to keep the emigrants company through their last night on the island, just as they would have bidden farewell to a soul beginning the long journey towards eternity. There was almost no chance that anyone present would ever see the departed again