Irreparable Loss Quotes

Four things do not come back: the spoken word, the sped arrow, the past life, and the neglected opportunity.

I think there are some things that just cannot be fixed.

And my poor fool is hanged! No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more, Never, Never, Never, Never, Never! Pray you, undo this button.

The loss of a friend is like that of a limb; time may heal the anguish of the wound, but the loss cannot be repaired.

Once destroyed, nature's beauty cannot be repurchased at any price

Confidence, like the soul, never returns whence it has once departed

Time waste differs from material waste in that there can be no salvage.

Good words will not give me back my children.

Not even the brightest future can make up for the fact that no roads lead back to what came before - to the innocence of childhood or the first time we fell in love.

You have destroyed so many flourishing and hopeful lives. Are you in a position to compensate the family of even a single dead man who would never willingly chosen to sacrifice himself in exchange for all the world’s billions.

To lose ones faith-surpass The loss of an Estate- Because Estates can be Replenished- faith cannot-.

The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced.

I hope you never hear those words. Your mom. She died. They are different than other words. They are too big to fit in your ears. They belong to some strange, heavy, powerful language that pounds away at the side of your head, a wrecking ball coming at you again and again, until finally, the words crack a hole large enough to fit inside your brain. And in so doing, they split you apart.

The notion of the perfect whole, the ultimate solution in which all good things coexist, seems to me not merely unobtainable--that is a truism--but conceptually incoherent. ......Some among the great goods cannot live together. That is a conceptual truth. We are doomed to choose, and every choice may entail an irreparable loss.

You’ll get over it…” It’s the clichés that cause the trouble. To lose someone you love is to alter your life for ever. You don’t get over it because ‘it” is the person you loved. The pain stops, there are new people, but the gap never closes. How could it? The particularness of someone who mattered enough to grieve over is not made anodyne by death. This hole in my heart is in the shape of you and no-one else can fit it. Why would I want them to?

Nobody was ever replaced in life, no hole completely filled or loss totally healed. You didn't need a medical degree to know that the human body really wasn't stronger in the broken places. Like any bone, the cracks would always show if you looked hard enough.

There are holes in our lives that can never be filled - not really, not ever.

There is no sound so terrible as a man's sorrow for his own death.

O the anguish of the thought that we can never atone to our dead for the stinted affection we gave them.

We are doomed to choose and every choice may entail irreparable loss.

If the Richter scale could measure human calamities, the loss of a child would register a ten.

You never replace a great scholar who retires. If you try to do that, you end up with burnt-out volcanoes.

My daughter squealed again and both Bubba and I winced. It’s not an attractive sound, that. It’s high-pitched and it enters your ear canals like hot glass. No matter how much I love my daughter, I will never love her squealing. Or maybe I will. Maybe I do. Driving down 93, I realized once and for all, that I love the things that chafe. The things that fill me with stress so total I can’t remember when a block of it didn’t rest on top of my heart. I love what, if broken, can’t be repaired. What, if lost can’t be replaced. I love my burdens.

Without doing injustice to the living, it may safely be asserted that our loss is irreparable; and that among the shining hosts of the great and good who now cluster around the banner of the country, there exists no purer spirit, no more heroic soul, than that of the illustrious man whose death I join you in lamenting.