Sympathy For Loss Quotes

#1. Sympathy does not think. It acts. It acts to remove. The ceaseless sufferings. Of the world #Quote by Sri Chinmoy

#2. That one true heart was left behind! What feeling do we ever find, to equal among human kind , a dog's fidelity! #Quote by Thomas Hardy

#3. All animals except man know that the principal business of life is to enjoy it. #Quote by Samuel Butler

#4. Nothing to be done really about animals. Anything you do looks foolish. The answer isn't in us. It's almost as if we're put here on earth to show how silly they aren't. #Quote by Russell Hoban

#5. When you win, you don't examine it very much, except to congratulate yourself. You easily, and wrongly, assume it has something to do with your rare qualities as a person. But winning only measures how hard you've worked and how physically talented you are; it doesn't particularly define you beyond those characteristics.
Losing on the other hand, really does say something about who you are. Among other things it measures are: do you blame others, or do you own the loss? Do you analyze your failure, or just complain about bad luck?
If you're willing to examine failure, and to look not just at your outward physical performance, but your internal workings, too, losing can be valuable. How you behave in those moments can perhaps be more self-defining than winning could ever be. Sometimes losing shows you for who you really are. #Quote by Lance Armstrong

#6. God, Satan, Paradise, and Hell all vanished one day in my fifteenth year, when I quite abruptly lost my faith. I recall it quite vividly.I was at school in England by then. The moment of awakening happened, in fact, during a Latin lessson, and afterwards, to prove my new-found atheism, I bought myself a rather tasteless ham sandwich, and so partook for the first time of the forbidden flesh of the swine. No thunderbolt arrived to strike me down. I remember feeling that my survival confirmed the correctness of new position. I did slightly regret the loss of Paradise, though. #Quote by Salman Rushdie

#7. While for critics of sprawl the generic signifies a loss of local identity and connection to place, for Koolhaas it represents an opportunity for reinvention and fantasy free from nostalgia or provincial habit. He admires the generic's accessibility, impermanence, economy of imagination, and malleable lack of authenticity or moralizing agenda. #Quote by Graham Owen

#8. Suffering invites us to place our hurts in larger hands. In Christ we see God suffering – for us. And calling us to share in God's suffering love for a hurting world. The small and even overpowering pains of our lives are intimately connected with the greater pains of Christ. Our daily sorrows are anchored in a greater sorrow and therefore a larger hope. #Quote by Henri J.M. Nouwen

#9. Grief is like the waves of the ocean on a never-ending mission to keep rolling always to crash at your feet. Only sometimes, it rages in anger, threatening to swallow everything there is left of you. Other times, it flows gently, brushing your feet softly but it never stops rolling. For as long as the waves of the ocean remain, so is the pain as long as life remains. #Quote by Yemeece

#10. You cannot kill me here. Bring your soldiers, your death, your disease, your collapsed economy because it doesn't matter, I have nothing left to lose and you cannot kill me here. Bring the tears of orphans and the wails of a mother's loss, bring your God damn air force and Jesus on a cross, bring your hate and bitterness and long working hours, bring your empty wallets and love long since gone but you cannot kill me here. Bring your sneers, your snide remarks and friendships never felt, your letters never sent, your kisses never kissed, cigarettes smoked to the bone and cancer killing fears but you cannot kill me here. For I may fall and I may fail but I will stand again each time and you will find no satisfaction. Because you cannot kill me here. #Quote by Iain S. Thomas

#11. I have nothing but sympathy for the people who are forced to work with me. I'm better now at picking out those that want to play that game with me, and those that don't. #Quote by Alton Brown

#12. For all of the information on the hazards of time on screen, research by Veerman and colleagues (2012) might be the most metric. They found that people whose life pattern includes watching TV 6 hours a day can expect to survive 4.8 years less than people that do not watch TV. They reckon that "every single hour of TV viewed after the age of 25 reduces the viewer's life expectancy by 21.8 minutes! They conclude that time viewing TV may be comparable to other major chronic disease factors such as obesity and inactivity in risk of loss of life. Of course, this was research done down under in Australia. All things considered, that might leave Americans at even greater risk for lifespans shortened by time on screen. #Quote by Joyce Shaffer

#13. My Ren & Stimpy reference wasn't all that funny when written in the center of someone's CONDOLENCE CARD.

"Fucking Leslie," I spat. "She threw a bunch of cards on my desk and said they were birthday cards."

Dean proceeded to lose his shit, his cackling laughs echoing inside my office.

I glared at him. "It's not that funny."

"Oh, hell yes it is. You referenced Ren & Stimpy on a sympathy card," he wheezed.

Seriously, fuck you, Leslie. Fuck you, hard.

I was convinced I could blame her for everything wrong in my life.

Lost my keys? Goddammit, Leslie!

Missed the subway? Fuck you very much, Leslie.

Another awful dick pic sent to my phone? You're such an asshole, Leslie. #Quote by Max Monroe

#14. Chronic or long-term pain affects sleep for weeks to months, even years, causing you to awaken frequently at night and experience daytime sleepiness. This long-term back pain can cause appetite loss, muscle weakness, irritability, and depression. You might have difficulty dealing with others, including family members, friends, and people at work. #Quote by Harris H. McIlwain

#15. A moment later, Helen had returned; she was walking slowly now, and carefully, her hand on the back of a thin boy with a mop of wavy brown hair. He couldn't have been older than twelve, and Clary recognized him immediately. Helen, her hand firmly clamped around the wrist of a younger boy whose hands were covered with blue wax. He must have been playing with the tapers in the huge candelabras that decorated the sides of the nave. He looked about twelve, with an impish grin and the same wavy, bitter-chocolate hair as his sister.

Jules, Helen had called him. Her little brother.

The impish grin was gone now. He looked tired and dirty and frightened. Skinny wrists stuck out of the cuffs of a white mourning jacket whose sleeves were too long for him. In his arms he was carrying a little boy, probably not more than two years old, with the same wavy brown hair that he had; it seemed to be a family trait. The rest of his family wore the same borrowed mourning clothes: following Julian was a brunette girl about ten, her hand firmly clasped in the hold of a boy the same age: the boy had a sheet of tangled black hair that nearly obscured his face. Fraternal twins, Clary guessed. After them came a girl who might have been eight or nine, her face round and very pale between brown braids.

The misery on their faces cut at Clary's heart. She thought of her power with runes, wishing that she could create one that would soften the blow of loss. Mourning runes ex #Quote by Cassandra Clare

#16. Thus it was, that when the little hairy man arrived back from the village of Revelry (although why it was so called no man alive could say, for it was a gloomy, somber place, and had been for time out of mind) he found Tristran sitting glumly beside a hawthorn bush, wrapped in a blanket, and bewailing the loss of his hat. "They said cruel things about my true love," said Tristran. "Miss Victoria Forester. How dare they?" "The little folk dare anything," said his friend. "And they talks a lot of nonsense. But they talks an awful lot of sense, as well. You listen to 'em at your peril, and you ignore 'em at your peril, too. #Quote by Neil Gaiman

#17. Like every other destruction of optimism, whether in a whole civilisation or in a single individual, these must have been unspeakable catastrophes for those who had dared to expect progress. But we should feel more than sympathy for those people. We should take it personally. For if any of those earlier experiments in optimism had succeeded, our species would be exploring the stars by now, and you and I would be immortal. #Quote by David Deutsch

#18. I think when you suffer a tremendous loss, everybody needs love and support in tangible ways. And that's what people have done for us. #Quote by Taya Kyle

#19. It's not Americans I find annoying; it's Americanism: a social disease of the postindustrial world that must inevitably infect each of the mercantile nations in turn, and is called 'American' only because your nation is the most advanced case of the malady, much as one speaks of Spanish flu, or Japanese Type-B encephalitis. It's symptoms are a loss of work ethic, a shrinking of inner resources, and a constant need for external stimulation, followed by spiritual decay and moral narcosis. You can recognize the victim by his constant efforts to get in touch with himself, to believe his spiritual feebleness is an interesting psychological warp, to construe his fleeing from responsibility as evidence that he and his life are uniquely open to new experiences. In the later stages, the sufferer is reduced to seeking that most trivial of human activities: fun. #Quote by Trevanian

#20. For just as the swan's last song is the sweetest of its life, so loss is made endurable by love and it is love that will echo through eternity. #Quote by Jennifer Worth

#21. You have to do what feels right for you. Do not let anyone influence you otherwise. It is your mind, your heart, and your own internal wisdom that will lead you in the direction you need to go. #Quote by Elizabeth Berrien

#22. I spoke softly. "The cops will eat you alive, Benjamin Blue. You have to go."
Ben tensed, ready to argue.
"Detective Hawfield died. This is going to get serious. It's way too much heat for you. Please be sensible."
Ben hesitated. Then his shoulders slumped.
"Maybe you're right." Deep breath. "But you're taking away the other possibility, too."
"I don't understand." I glanced over my shoulder at the approaching vehicle. "What other possibility?"
He smiled wanly. "Ben Blue, The Hero. That kinda would've been nice."
I paused, at a loss for words. My heart broke for him.
"But that's okay." Ben dug keys from his pocket. "After all, we're Virals, not heroes. And that's fine. Plus, I'm not really the hero type."
He turned to leave.
Impulsively, I grabbed Ben's arm. Pulled him close.
Smashed my lips against his.
The kiss only lasted a second, but also an eternity.
Then I stepped back and shoved Ben toward the Explorer.
"Of course you're the type." I was grateful the darkness hid my blushes. "Now go."
Ben stared, stricken, thunderstruck. Hi and Shelton watched, wide-eyed with shock.
"Weirdest birthday ever," Hi whispered. #Quote by Kathy Reichs

#23. Our nation now affirms, through its legislative bodies and courts, a distinctively anti-Christian agenda. Anything singularly Christian has been virtually swept away under the aegis of equal rights and moral freedom. The divine standards and biblical morality that our nation once embraced are assaulted constantly. Moral freedom now reigns. Materialism and the breakdown of the family are epidemic. Abortions, sexual evils, drugs, and crime are rampant. And our leaders are at a loss to know what to do because there are no standards left to provide controls for these problems. #Quote by John F. MacArthur Jr.

#24. I still know this place and its people to the marrow of their bones, to their soft, unguarded core, which had once sustained my own life, yet I am as much of an outsider here as I am on the other side of the world, in my adopted country. The truth is that there is no bridge between the two lives - the past and the present - that would conveniently span the memory of loss and the promise of an onward search. There is only a wound, the inner divide of exile. A daughter of an anatomy professor, I should have known that sliced hearts do not become whole, that split souls do not mend. Along with all those who left their countries for other shores, I belong in neither land. #Quote by Elena Gorokhova

#25. For you time-capsule types, MoPo was something called a convenience store, as in, 'The soda is conveniently located right next to the doughnuts and lottery tickets.' People who want to understand better how the human race was conquered so easily need to study those stores. Almost everything inside was filled with sugar, cheese, or weight-loss tips #Quote by Adam Rex

#26. What you see is what I am. I've not had my boobs done or my arse lifted, no nips, no tucks. No ribs removed, nothing. Those little strumpets we see on the silver screen today are mostly bathroom sealant. They buy breasts over the counter. What would you like, honey, small, medium or large? They give us stick insects and tell us it's beauty. If someone of their size went for an audition jn my day she'd have been shown a square meal and told to come back when she was a stone heavier. What's wring with curves? Anyone over a ten these days is regarded not as an average-sized woman but a marketing opportunity. Cream for this, pills for that, superfluous hair, collagen injection, quick weight-loss diets. Where's it going to end? We're pressured to expend so much money and effort ti be the 'perfect' shape when that shape is physically attainable by only one woman in a million. It's the cold face of capitalism, boys and girls, preying in misguided expectations. Besides, I always found perfection an overrated commodity #Quote by Jasper Fforde

#27. Salvation is not a divine transaction that takes place because you are morally perfect, but much more is an organic unfolding, a becoming who you already are, an inborn sympathy with and capacity for the very One who created you. #Quote by Richard Rohr

#28. Is this the region, this the soil, the clime,
Said then the lost Archangel, this the seat
That we must change for heav'n, this mournful gloom
For that celestial light? Be it so since he
Who now is sovereign can dispose and bid
What shall be right. Farthest from him is best Whom reason hath equaled force hath made supreme
Above his equals. Farewell happy fields
Where joy forever dwells. Hail horrors Hail
Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell
Receive thy new possessor, one who brings
A mind not to be changed by place or time
The mind is its own place and in itself
Can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n.
What matter where if I be still the same
And what I should be--All but less than he
Whom thunder hath made greater. Here at least
We shall be free. Th' Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy will not drive us hence.
Here we may reign supreme, and in my choice
To reign is worth ambition, though in hell.
Better to reign in hell than serve in Heav'n.
But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,
Th'associates and co-partners of our loss
Lie thus astonished on th' oblivious pool.
And call them not to share with us their part
In this unhappy mansion? Or, once more,
With rallying arms, to try what may be yet
Regained in heav'n or what more lost in hell! #Quote by John Milton

#29. Lucy rubbed her back, a feeling of panic tightening her chest. She was the last person to give love advice. She hadn't done anything but pine for Jem since he'd gone, and done nothing but pine for him since he'd returned. She hadn't taken her love for him and put it anywhere at all.
Alda looked up, eyes red. "I need to take that love and spread it around. What a waste to just keep it tucked inside. #Quote by Mary Jane Hathaway

#30. No, it was the brutal loss of his family that haunted him and for that Nykyrian couldn't fault him at all. Syn had been put through a meat grinder by life. The fact that man could still get up and make it through a day without blowing his brains out amazed him.' (Nykyrian) #Quote by Sherrilyn Kenyon

#31. I have no commiseration for princes. My sympathies are reserved for the great mass of mankind ... . #Quote by Henry Clay

#32. It has to be emphasized that if the pain were readily describable most of the countless sufferers from this ancient affliction would have been able to confidently depict for their friends and loved ones (even their physicians) some of the actual dimensions of their torment, and perhaps elicit a comprehension that has been generally lacking; such incomprehension has usually been due not to a failure of sympathy but to the basic inability of healthy people to imagine a form of torment so alien to everyday experience. #Quote by William Styron

#33. Only by being willing to experience loss - by letting the walls of memory crumble - could she have it. This is the bet life always makes against us. Life bets that we won't be willing to endure the suffering it requires. Life bets that we will try to shut out the suffering, and so shut out life in the bargain. Tisha B'Av sidles up to us, whispering conspiratorially with a racing form over its mouth. Tisha B'Av has a hot tip for us: Take the suffering. Take the loss. Turn toward it. Embrace it. Let the walls come down. #Quote by Alan Lew

#34. I'm allowed to milk it for all it's worth for sympathy points and cookies and stuff." "You want cookies?" "I think they would help with the healing process." "I'll bake you some cookies. #Quote by Tiffany Reisz

#35. I missed her so much I wanted to die: a hard, physical longing, like a craving for air underwater. Lying awake, I tried to recall all my best memories of her - to freeze her in my mind so I wouldn't forget her - but instead of birthdays and happy times I kept remembering things like how a few days before she was killed she'd stopped me halfway out the door to pick a thread off my school jacket. For some reason, it was one of the clearest memories I had of her: her knitted eyebrows, the precise gesture of her reaching out to me, everything. Several times too - drifting uneasily between dreaming and sleep - I sat up suddenly in bed at the sound of her voice speaking clearly in my head, remarks she might conceivably have made at some point but that I didn't actually remember, things like Throw me an apple, would you? and I wonder if this buttons up the front or the back? and This sofa is in a terrible state of disreputableness. #Quote by Donna Tartt

#36. The price of shallow sex may be a corresponding loss of capacity for deep love. #Quote by Shana Alexander

#37. ---Sleeps through the washes of the morning's colors and the warm brilliance of sunrise. She sleeps in a world where she remembers, perfectly, every detail about her husband, this day, that sentence, another touch. She will remember it all in the deepest sleep, and lose it again the moment her eyes open and she wonders how late it must be for the sun to already be so high and then remembers, in the next instant, what happened the day before. #Quote by Ashley Hay

#38. People tell you to keep your "courage" up. But the time for courage is when she was sick, when I took care of her and saw her suffering, her sadness, and when I had to conceal my tears. Constantly one had to make a decision, put on a mask and that was courage.

--Now, courage means the will to live and there's all too much of that. #Quote by Roland Barthes

#39. For Marianne, however - in spite of his incivility in surviving her loss - he always retained that decided regard which interested him in every thing that befell her, and made her his secret standard of perfection in woman; - and many a rising beauty would be slighted by him in after-days as bearing no comparison with Mrs. Brandon. #Quote by Jane Austen

#40. Better to scratch the wound than bandage it: those who lose a child shouldn't be consoled; parents die to make room for their kids, not the other way around. He wasn't being cruel, he just thought a gash that deep had to be respected, not swaddled over with cuddles. #Quote by Yuri Herrera

#41. But on a Sunday morning when I want to grab an omelet over girl talk, I'm at a loss. My Chicago friends are the let's-get-dinner-on-the-books-a-month-in-advance type. We email, trading dates until we find an open calendar slot amidst our tight schedules of workout classes, volunteer obligations (no false pretenses here, the volunteers are my friends, not me, sadly), work events, concert tickets and other dinners scheduled with other girls. I'm looking for someone to invite to watch The Biggest Loser with me at the last minute or to text "pedicure in half an hour?" on a Saturday morning. To me, that's what BFFs are. #Quote by Rachel Bertsche

#42. Looking at death can be life-affirming. It doesn't need to mire us in thoughts of uselessness, nihilism, self-recrimination, and indifference to the future. Just a reminder that our days are numbered invites us to consider our blessings, strengthen our resolve to carry on, and escalate our compassion for all creatures, great and small. #Quote by Brent Green

#43. He didn't deserve someone like Lorcan. He'd turned Lorcan's pure and wonderful feelings into something ugly, something to be ashamed of. He stepped into his room, shutting the door quietly behind him, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands as he listened to Lorcan move around his room. He did something he hadn't allowed himself since his daddy had passed. He cried - for his loss, for what could have been ... but mostly, he cried in shame. #Quote by S.J.D. Peterson

#44. Well, you're part of the human fabric of experience. You don't have to have cancer to write about cancer. You don't have to have somebody close to you die to understand what death is. Definitely, the more you live, the more experiences fall into your spectrum, but I have songs like "Chemo Limo," or "Ode to Divorce" - I wrote that when I was 18. And I remember having people come up to me and be like, "You totally described what it feels like to get divorced!" As a writer, you must have been told: Write about what you know. But Kafka didn't. Gogol didn't. Did Shakespeare write only what he knew? Did Camus? Our own selves are limitless.And our capacity for empathy is giant. That's why we're able to feel sympathy for, you know, a dog who has a puppy in its litter that died; we can feel for that, and write about that. I've never seen that, I just see things sometimes in my mind's eye.I guess it sounds sort of hippie, and probably is, but I do feel that we're all part of the experience. So in that way, I guess you don't have to compartmentalize. You could just kind of let it all be. #Quote by Regina Spektor

#45. Nick leans down and kisses my eyelids. "Loving you, Zara, is a full-time job. It's a great job, don't get me wrong. It's the best job in the universe. But it is not easy, because you tend to . . ."
"Get hurt?" Betty suggests. "Find trouble? Pass out? Break arms?"
"All of the above." Nick laughs.
My hand finds Nick's wrist and I grab onto its thickness. "You know, I'm the patient here. Where's the bedside manner? Where's the sympathy?"
"Zara, sympathy is just a good excuse to buy greeting cards and make sorry eyes and secretly gloat over how glad you are that you aren't the person whose crap is hanging out there for the world to see," Betty says. #Quote by Carrie Jones