I know now that we never get over great losses; we absorb them, and they carve us into different, often kinder, creatures.
Gail CaldwellRead
It's taken years for me to understand that dying doesn't end the story; it transforms it. Edits, rewrites, the blur, aand epiphany of one-way dialogue. Most of us wander in and out of one another's lives until not death, but distance, does us part-- time and space and heart's weariness are the blander executioners or human connection.
Interpretation
What this quote means
Life continues to evolve even after death; separation can also stem from distance and emotional fatigue.
In this quote, Gail Caldwell reflects on the nature of human relationships and the inevitability of change, both in life and through death. She suggests that while physical death may seem like the end, it is actually the journey of connection and transformation that defines our stories. Additionally, she emphasizes that the true severance of relationships can often come from emotional distance rather than death itself, highlighting the complexities of human connection.
Themes
DeathTransformationRelationshipsDistanceHuman ConnectionTimeChange
In practice
Example use cases
In a eulogy to celebrate a loved one's life and the impact they had on others.
More from Gail Caldwell
All quotes →The only education in grief that any of us ever gets is a crash course. Until Caroline had died I had belonged to that other world, the place of innocence, and linear expectations, where I thught grief was a simple, wrenching realm of sadness and longing that graduallu receded. What that definition left out was the body blow that loss inflicts, as well as the temporary madness, and a range of less straightforward emotions shocking in their intensity.
Gail CaldwellRead
Similar quotes
Anything important is never left to the vote of the people. We only get to vote on some man; we never get to vote on what he is to do.
Will RogersRead
Though this nation has proudly thought of itself as an ethnic melting pot, in things racial we have always been and I believe continue to be, in too many ways, essentially a nation of cowards
Eric HolderRead
Only times and places, only names and ghosts.
Aldous HuxleyRead
Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end.
George R. R. MartinRead
What's left is palimpsest—one memory bleeding into another, overwriting it.
Natasha TretheweyRead
Divorced from the cosmos, from nature, from society and from each other, we have become fractured and fragmented.
Daisaku IkedaRead