And he hated himself and hated her,too, for the ruin they'd made of each other.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
Let no one who loves be unhappy, even love unreturned has its rainbow.
When its gone, you'll know what a gift love was. you'll suffer like this. So go back and fight to keep it.
..."better to have loved and lost" bullshit. Don't show me paradise and then burn it down.
It's better to have loved and lost than to have to do forty pounds of laundry a week.
The really important questions in human life are hardly touched upon by psychologists. Do liars come to believe their own lies? Is pleasure the same as happiness? Is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved, or not to be able to love?
To have memories of those you have loved and lost is perhaps harder than to have no memories.
It is better to have loved and lost, but only if you have a good attorney.
Rather, I think one should write, as nearly as possible, as if he were the first person on earth and was humbly and sincerly putting on paper that which he saw and experienced and loved and lost; what his passing thoughts were and his sorrows and desires.
We have a saying in Germany. It is better to have loved and lost than to engage in a land war with Russia in the winter.
Anyone who tells you that it is better to have loved and lost that to never loved at all has never done both.
The graves of those we have loved and lost distress and console as.
They always say it is better to have loved and lost and all that, so no I don't think I have any regrets, and I have always been there for all of my kids no matter what.
She wonders what fool ever said that it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all - she has never disagreed with something so much.
As I write, I am struggling with the ghost of someone I loved and lost. I now understand more fully the difficulties you were going through, and I realize how painful it must have been for you to move on.
Somewhere, all the people we have loved and lost are still among us, in the house that we call history.
Perhaps only those who had loved and lost could appreciate this magic.
If you believe yourself unfortunate because you have loved and lost, perish the thought. One who has loved truly, can never lose entirely.
To have loved and lost, either by that total disenchantment which leaves compassion as the sole substitute for love which can exist no more, or by the slow torment which is obliged to let go day by day all that constitutes the diviner part of love - namely, reverence, belief, and trust, yet clings desperately to the only thing left it, a long-suffering apologetic tenderness - this lot is probably the hardest any woman can have to bear.
Here's what I believe a soul is - at least this, I believe it's at least this. I believe that every kindness that we create in our lives, if it came because we were affected by a person we loved and lost, that person lives through that kindness. That's what a soul is.
There is anguish in the recollection that we have not adequately appreciated the affection of those whom we have loved and lost.
Just bc u loved and lost doesn't mean stop loving. If u have a nightmare, does it mean u stop dreaming?
I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods: I envy not the beast that takes His license in the field of time, Unfetter’d by the sense of crime, To whom a conscience never wakes; Nor, what may count itself as blest, The heart that never plighted troth But stagnates in the weeds of sloth; Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate’er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; ‘Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.
All that we know about those we have loved and lost is that they would wish us to remember them with a more intensified realization of their reality. What is essential does not die but clarifies. The highest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude.
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