#loss

...these vignettes I sketch for you - what are they? watercolors ..yes and dreams blurred with tears ... ↗

— John Geddes

#love-loss #poetry #sketches #tears #vignettes

It is a world completely rotten with wealth, power, senility, indifference, puritanism and mental hygiene, poverty and waste, technological futility and aimless violence, and yet I cannot help but feel it has about it something of the dawning of the universe. Perhaps because the entire world continues to dream of New York, even as New York dominates and exploits it. ↗

— Jean Baudrillard

#new-york #postmodern #power #dreams

I have short-term memory loss. I know that some of the memories of the Super Bowl championships are fading. ↗

— Pat Bowlen

#championships #fading #i #know #loss

Nothing helped until the day she took a tablet and pencil into the basement and moved the event out of her and onto paper, where it was reshaped into a kind of simple equation: loss equaled the need to love again, more. ↗

— Elizabeth Berg

#love #writing #equality

Nora had been training herself not to think too much about her kids. Not because she wanted to forget them - not at all - but because she wanted to remember them more accurately. For the same reason, she tried not to look too often at old photographs or videos...After a while, these scraps hardened into a kind of official narrative that crowded out thousands of equally valid memories, shunting the losers to some cluttered basement storage area in her brain. ↗

— Tom Perrotta

#memory #equality

He stood at the window of the empty cafe and watched the activites in the square and he said that it was good that God kept the truths of life from the young as they were starting out or else they'd have no heart to start at all. ↗

— Cormac McCarthy

#growing-up #innocence #life #loss-of-innocence #truths

Whatever the response to loss and tragedy, the experience seems to boil down to one journey--searching for Jesus. ↗

— W. Scott Lineberry

#loss #search #tragedy #experience

. . . at this season, the blossom is out in full now, there in the west early. It's a plum tree, it looks like apple blossom but it's white, and looking at it, instead of saying "Oh that's nice blossom" ... last week looking at it through the window when I'm writing, I see it is the whitest, frothiest, blossomest blossom that there ever could be, and I can see it. Things are both more trivial than they ever were, and more important than they ever were, and the difference between the trivial and the important doesn't seem to matter. But the nowness of everything is absolutely wondrous, and if people could see that, you know. There's no way of telling you; you have to experience it, but the glory of it, if you like, the comfort of it, the reassurance ... not that I'm interested in reassuring people - bugger that. The fact is, if you see the present tense, boy do you see it! And boy can you celebrate it. ↗

— Dennis Potter

#celebrate #comfort #death #importance #now

How many times can a heart be shattered and still be pieced back together? How many times before the damage is irreparable? ↗

— Gwenn Wright

#death #grief #historical-fiction #loss #love

I didn't understand at all that the memories accumulated during years of happiness could weigh enough to balance so large a loss, or that the mind will sometimes find a way to free the heart from pain. ↗

— Eric Kraft

#experience