Devastating Heartbreak Quotes

Did I really want to stay on this road longer, knowing it was only going to end in devastation?

One day, I learned that a single look can change everything. And since then I have seen it countless times. I have grappled to understand it and failed. For instance, all it took was a look from another man for my wife to fall out of love with me. It baffles me that a simple alignment of eyes can cause so much devastation.

I want him to reach out to me, but I know he can't. He can't for all the same reasons I can't. It hurts too much. It's like an alcoholic taking a sip of wine; the pleasure of the indulgence would be immediate and swift, but the aftermath would be devastating.

I knew what he felt. The huge buoyant air sack of love that filled his body had just exploded and the collapse was devastating.

He had illuminated the heartbreaking cruelty of war: When men who fight become nothing, only packages of bones and blood deposited in the earth with no clarion call to memory, those they love are left without a way to make such devastating loss hold meaning.

A lot has happened. You have a lot to figure out. I can be a patient man, Colorado. A devastatingly handsome, roguishly scarred, heartbreakingly courageous, patient man.

For some reason, the despair that's welling up in me is transforming into white-hot rage. I feel it working its way up from my toes, winding around my legs, and burrowing into the pit of my stomach. It spears its razor-sharp tendrils through the pieces of my broken heart. It's crippling, and devastating, and unrelenting. I have only one choice to survive this; I turn that rage outward.

When you do not trust yourself, what you feel, and what you know, you will expect people to be who they are not. You will hope against hope that they will do things you already know they cannot do. You will expect them to be who you want them to be rather than trusting what you know about who they are and what they are capable of doing. This is not trust. This is magical thinking, and engaging in it will set you up for a big letdown. Trusting yourself is important when dealing with others because it protects you from repeated violations and devastating heartbreaks.

It may take only months to rebuild a devastated city and restore life and normality, but rebuilding trust can take an eternity — and may never become reality.

What matters most at the moment of heartbreak is the meaning we ascribe to our pain. We may feel devastated because we believe we’ve just lost our soul mate. And that’s often what we do feel in that moment. When we are deep in heartbreak we feel like we have lost the only person in the world for whom we are capable of feeling this level of emotion. We can’t imagine ever loving anyone else. If we invest in this belief, not only will it increase our suffering, it will also make it more difficult for anyone else to come into our life, because we feel like we’ve already lost The One. Nothing else seems to matter. We lose our drive, our ambition, and our ability to take even baby steps forward.

Oh yes, for sure, there will be heartbreak! And you will learn to get out of your head and into your immediate embodied experience, coming out of mental stories and conclusions, and contacting the raw energy of the here and now, directly feeling the devastation of your dreams rather than intellectualizing everything away, letting the grief, anger, and sorrow of millennia surge through your pores, rather than dismissing it all as an “illusion,” or distracting yourself with fresh dreams. All

We're both gasping for breath between our tears. It's intense. It's heartbreaking. It's devastating. It's ugly. It's over.

I see death and tragedy all the time and nothing makes it worse than when it’s totally senseless. All she needed was some niceness, some basic human kindness, and she wouldn’t be on her way to the morgue and her parents wouldn’t be devastated. It’s heartbreaking and so senseless.

When I left, I had just been one of his heartbreaks, not his first. The first was powerful; it changed you. My own had been so devastating, altering the way I looked at men and love. And it wasn’t something that just wore off with time, returning you to your previous state of belief. Once you lost your faith, it was gone.

I took one last look at the man who owned my body and soul for so many years. His face twisted into a mask of sheer devastation. I wanted to reach out and console him, to say everything would work out. It wouldn’t though, not until he put his family before his career. “I never thought our love story had an end,” Luke said faintly. Clicking the door shut, I slid down the wooden frame into a heap on the floor. Sobs racked my body as I echoed the same sentiments in my head. Our love story shouldn’t have had an end. Only a beginning.

The devastation was a literal manifestation of the old truism “When America catches a cold, Black America gets pneumonia.

But today? She’s devastatingly, heartbreakingly beautiful. The untouchable sort of regal. An ice queen. A snow angel. A moon goddess.

...the cure to everything is love. In all of its forms.Romantic, sisterly... even nieces. A loving heart can cure even the worst of heartbreaks. No matter how painful or devastating they might be. Love is the answer. Love is the cure.

I'm not sure I even recognize the ever-presence of mercy anymore, the divine and the human; the messy, crippled, transforming, heartbreaking, lovely, devastating presence of mercy. But I have come to believe that I am starving to death for it, and my world is, too.

She couldn't tell which was winning out - her utter devastation at Gabriel's lack of support, at the way he'd made her feel so monstrous, of the suspicion that she was monstrous; that is was somehow a dishonorable thing to look at Bridget the way she did, and tha tGabriel was right to have reacted with revulsion. She wanted to scrub it all out. She wanted to back everything she had said and go back to a time when she was still just the sister that Gabriel knew and loved, not this stranger he had looked at with such disappointment.

But they wouldn't, they wouldn't have done any of that, because in stories guys fight. They fight for the person they care about, and they don't give up, ever. In real life, though, sometimes you beg for them to care, and they just don't. And then they go quiet. And they let you walk away without much of a fight at all.

I don’t understand,” in a quavering, half-broken voice, a voice that devastates Tatiana; it’s the desperate, despairing I DON’T UNDERSTAND of someone who understands all too well, in fact, and what they understand is this; no one is safe; no one is protected from the attack which comes just like that, without warning, pitiless, merciless; and you are absolutely alone when the suffering begins

Shouldn't I stay? Soldier through it? Maybe if I'd had some practice, maybe if I'd had more devastation in my life, I would be more prepared to go on. It's not that my life has been perfect. I've had disappointments and I've been lonely and frustrated and angry and all the crappy stuff everyone feels. But in terms of heartbreak, I've been spared. I've never toughened up enough to handle what I'd have to handle if I were to stay.

I have fallen in love," Shadi said. "With the Haunted Hat?" I asked, heart thrilling. Shadi was always the very best, but Shadi in love-- there was nothing like it. Somehow, she became even more herself. Even wilder, funnier, sillier, wiser, softer. Love lit my best friend up from within, and even if every one of her heartbreaks was utterly devastating, she still never closed herself off. Every time she fell in love again, her joy seemed to overflow, into me and the world at large.

While some of our deepest wounds come from feeling abandoned by others, it is surprising to see how often we abandon ourselves through the way we view life. It’s natural to perceive through a lens of blame at the moment of emotional impact, but each stage of surrender offers us time and space to regroup and open our viewpoints for our highest evolutionary benefit. It’s okay to feel wronged by people or traumatized by circumstances. This reveals anger as a faithful guardian reminding us how overwhelmed we are by the outcomes at hand. While we will inevitably use each trauma as a catalyst for our deepest growth, such anger informs us when the highest importance is being attentive to our own experiences like a faithful companion. As waves of emotion begin to settle, we may ask ourselves, “Although I feel wronged, what am I going to do about it?” Will we allow experiences of disappointment or even cruelty to inspire our most courageous decisions and willingness to evolve? When viewing others as characters who have wronged us, a moment of personal abandonment occurs. Instead of remaining present to the sheer devastation we feel, a need to align with ego can occur through the blaming of others. While it seems nearly instinctive to see life as the comings and goings of how people treat us, when focused on cultivating our most Divine qualities, pain often confirms how quickly we are shifting from ego to soul. From the soul’s perspective, pain represents the initial steps out of the identity and reference points of an old reality as we make our way into a brand new paradigm of being. The more this process is attempted to be rushed, the more insufferable it becomes. To end the agony of personal abandonment, we enter the first stage of surrender by asking the following question: Am I seeing this moment in a way that helps or hurts me? From the standpoint of ego, life is a play of me versus you or us versus them. But from the soul’s perspective, characters are like instruments that help develop and uncover the melody of our highest vibration. Even when the friction of conflict seems to divide people, as souls we are working together to play out the exact roles to clear, activate, and awaken our true radiance. The more aligned in Source energy we become, the easier each moment of transformation tends to feel. This doesn’t mean we are immune to disappointment, heartbreak, or devastation. Instead, we are keenly aware of how often life is giving us the chance to grow and expand. A willingness to be stretched and re-created into a more refined form is a testament to the fiercely liberated nature of our soul. To the ego, the soul’s willingness to grow under the threat of any circumstance seems foolish, shortsighted, and insane. This is because the ego can only interpret that reality as worry, anticipation, and regret.

All this fantastic effort—giant machines, road networks, strip mines, conveyor belt, pipelines, slurry lines, loading towers, railway and electric train, hundred-million-dollar coal-burning power plant; ten thousand miles of high-tension towers and high-voltage power lines; the devastation of the landscape, the destruction of Indian homes and Indian grazing lands, Indian shrines and Indian burial grounds; the poisoning of the last big clean-air reservoir in the forty-eight contiguous United States, the exhaustion of precious water supplies—all that ball-breaking labor and all that backbreaking expense and all that heartbreaking insult to land and sky and human heart, for what? All that for what? Why, to light the lamps of Phoenix suburbs not yet built, to run the air conditioners of San Diego and Los Angeles, to illuminate shopping-center parking lots at two in the morning, to power aluminum plants, magnesium plants, vinyl-chloride factories and copper smelters, to charge the neon tubing that makes the meaning (all the meaning there is) of Las Vegas, Albuquerque, Tucson, Salt Lake City, the amalgamated metropoli of southern California, to keep alive that phosphorescent putrefying glory (all the glory there is left) called Down Town, Night Time, Wonderville, U.S.A. They

This is a Pathway of Sacred Tears, tears shed for the beauty, the pain and the breaking down of self in devastatingly real moments of humbly accepted personal ‘truth.’ Embracing and sticking with Divine Truth at all costs means all else pales into insignificance besides the Only Thing that really matters. There is a big difference between tears cried about the effects of a wound, and tears sobbed and released from the primal place within the soul where the causes of its deepest pains, suffering and heartbreaks dwell. The tears of crying on the surface of an emotion have little emotional impact, and are not felt by those more sensitive to truth and the deeper reality of the soul.

The way I see it, the blue is the stuff you can't control, life's major heartbreak and struggles, that feeling of devastation so massive and brutal it inflicts permanent damage on the heart and spirit that can never be undone and will always be there, spewing somewhere in a corner of your mind like deep scars you'll have with you you're whole life. The green you also can't control. But that's the part that reminds you life is worth living. It's not the here-and-there type of good stuff that happens every day either. The green is the stuff that comes in huge doses that slap you in the face when you least expect it and brings a light to all that you are through growth, bravery, and goodness, and love. It's the stuff that picks you up when you're at the bottom and makes you keep on going even when you're sure you can't. That's the green.

What I failed to see was that, by ending my life, I would cause interminable pain to my family and friends. I could not understand the heartbreak it would cause those around me. Nor did I consider that my brother, Joseph, might live the rest of his life in continual rage, or that my sister, Libby, might shut herself off from the world and fall into perpetual depression, silence, and sadness mistakenly blaming themselves for my death as many family members do when they lose someone they love to suicide. I certainly held no understanding of the enormous pain my mother and father would suffer because they lost their oldest son in such a terrifying and devastating way. They would not have a chance to watch me mature, marry, and perhaps have children. Instead, all of their hopes, aspirations, and dreams for me would be destroyed with my decision to end my life by jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge.

My favorite lines of Charlotte’s Web, the lines that always make me cry, are toward the end of the book. They go like this: ‘These autumn days will shorten and grow cold. The leaves will shake loose from the trees and fall. Christmas will come, then the snows of winter. You will live to enjoy the beauty of the frozen world, for you mean a great deal to Zuckerman and he will not harm you, ever. Winter will pass, the days will lengthen, the ice will melt in the pasture pond. The song sparrow will return and sing, the frogs will awake, the warm wind will blow again. All these sights and sounds and smells will be yours to enjoy, Wilbur — this lovely world, these precious days …’ I have tried for a long time to figure out how E. B. White did what he did, how he told the truth and made it bearable. And I think that you, with your beautiful book about love, won’t be surprised to learn that the only answer I could come up with was love. E. B. White loved the world. And in loving the world, he told the truth about it — its sorrow, its heartbreak, its devastating beauty. He trusted his readers enough to tell them the truth, and with that truth came comfort and a feeling that we are not alone. I think our job is to trust our readers. I think our job is to see and to let ourselves be seen. I think our job is to love the world.

This linking of bullying to mental illness and the idea that it causes 'life-long damage' really concerns me. I fear it is the anti-bullying industry that is the real threat to young people's state of mind. Rather than reassure, it adamantly stresses, indeed exaggerates, the harmful effects of bullying. Such scaremongering is impacting on young people's coping mechanisms and possibly exacerbating the problem. As such, it actually contributes to the young feeling overly anxious, and ironically creates an atmosphere likely to encourage symptoms of mental ill health. The headline should be 'anti-bullying causes mental illness'. The anti-bullying industry has made a virtue of catastrophizing, always arguing things are getting worse. With the advent of social media, bullying experts are quick to point out there is now no escape: 'Bullying doesn't stop when school ends; it continues twenty-four hours a day'. Children's charities continually ratchet up the fear factor. Surely it is irresponsible when Sarah Brennan, CEO of YoungMinds, declares that 'if devastating and life-changing' bullying isn't dealt with 'it can lead to years of pain and suffering that go on long into adulthood'. Maybe I am being over-cynical about the anti-bullying bandwagon, and there is a danger that such a critique will cause me to be labelled callous and hardhearted. Certainly, when you read of some young people's heartbreaking experiences, there is no doubt that it can be a genuinely harrowing experience to go through. But when we hear these sad stories, surely our job as adults should be to help children and young people put these types of unpleasant experience[s] behind them, to at least put them in perspective, rather than stoking up their anxieties and telling them they may face 'years of pain and suffering'.

The story of the mustard seed from the Buddha’s life sprang to mind. A mother lost her young son. She came to the Buddha and pleaded with him to bring him back to life. Other versions of the story say she pleaded to be relieved of her suffering. In any case, the Buddha said, “Yes, I can do that. But first you must bring me a mustard seed from a home where no one has faced a similar loss.” So the woman set out. She went from home to home, knocking on doors and inquiring. It seemed everywhere she went someone in each family had suffered a terrible loss… fathers, daughters, uncles, mothers, friends…Everyone knew the heartbreaking loss of someone beloved. She couldn’t find a soul who hadn’t experienced some devastating pain like hers. In this way she healed the pain from her own loss, and in keeping with the first scenario, realized that despite her great love, there was nothing unique enough about her son to merit his resurrection above all other beings.

The loss of a child is a terrible thing. Unthinkable, unbelievable, and heartbreaking. Devastating, shocking, and crushing. Paralyzing, shattering, and traumatic. These are a few of the words grieving parents have shared with me. Whatever words we choose, they all fall far short of the reality.

So after I got Jamie’s address, I wrote to her every day. Every night after I put the kids to bed, I would write. I would tell her about everything that had happened--what I did, what the kids did, something funny one of them said. I just wrote as much as I could for several pages. Every night I wrote her novels and every morning I mailed them to her. That was all well and good until I found out I’d addressed all of the envelopes incorrectly! I’d left out one digit of the zip code on every single letter I’d written. I was devastated. Even though I had put a return address on them, I was sure they were stuck in post office limbo. I had this realization the same day I got my first letter from Jamie. I ripped it open and read it through gripped fingers. She told me all about her first few days in basic training, and at the bottom she added the most heartbreaking line, “I wish you’d write me. I know you’re busy and I know you don’t like to write, but I wish you would.” I couldn’t believe it. She thought I hadn’t written at all. I called a buddy of mine who is now Command Sergeant Major Phil Blaisdell, a battalion sergeant major at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. “Phil, I’m in trouble. Man, I’ve been sending her letters and I was putting the wrong zip code on them and I got a letter from her and she thinks I’m not sending her letters and I know she needs that.” “All right, let me call you back.” A little while later my phone rang. “I’m Command Sergeant Major Duncan. I am the battalion sergeant major of Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. First of all, I’d like to tell you that I know who you are and I appreciate your service and what you’ve done. I’ve seen your Men’s Health issue and you are an inspiration. I understand you know a Specialist Boyd,” she said. “Yes, Sergeant Major, I do.” “Well, I’ve got her standing in front of me right now. Would you like to talk to her?” “Yes, Sergeant Major, I would.” So she handed the phone to Jamie. Jamie was a little stressed out because she had been called to the sergeant major’s office and thought, What have I done? The conversation was rushed and she was speaking in a hushed tone. “Hey, I miss you, I love you.” “Hey, me, too, baby. Let me tell you real quick, I’ve been sending you letters--” “I got them all today. Thank you.” “I miss you, and I hope that you can tell.” “Look, I want to keep talking but they’re watching me.” “Okay, we’re good. Just wanted to make sure you got the letters. I love you and we’ll talk later.

I just wrote as much as I could for several pages. Every night I wrote her novels and every morning I mailed them to her. That was all well and good until I found out I’d addressed all of the envelopes incorrectly! I’d left out one digit of the zip code on every single letter I’d written. I was devastated. Even though I had put a return address on them, I was sure they were stuck in post office limbo. I had this realization the same day I got my first letter from Jamie. I ripped it open and read it through gripped fingers. She told me all about her first few days in basic training, and at the bottom she added the most heartbreaking line, “I wish you’d write me. I know you’re busy and I know you don’t like to write, but I wish you would.” I couldn’t believe it. She thought I hadn’t written at all. I called a buddy of mine who is now Command Sergeant Major Phil Blaisdell, a battalion sergeant major at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. “Phil, I’m in trouble. Man, I’ve been sending her letters and I was putting the wrong zip code on them and I got a letter from her and she thinks I’m not sending her letters and I know she needs that.” “All right, let me call you back.” A little while later my phone rang. “I’m Command Sergeant Major Duncan. I am the battalion sergeant major of Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. First of all, I’d like to tell you that I know who you are and I appreciate your service and what you’ve done. I’ve seen your Men’s Health issue and you are an inspiration. I understand you know a Specialist Boyd,” she said. “Yes, Sergeant Major, I do.” “Well, I’ve got her standing in front of me right now. Would you like to talk to her?” “Yes, Sergeant Major, I would.” So she handed the phone to Jamie. Jamie was a little stressed out because she had been called to the sergeant major’s office and thought, What have I done? The conversation was rushed and she was speaking in a hushed tone. “Hey, I miss you, I love you.” “Hey, me too, baby. Let me tell you real quick, I’ve been sending you letters—” “I got them all today. Thank you.” “I miss you, and I hope that you can tell.” “Look, I want to keep talking but they’re watching me.” “Okay, we’re good. Just wanted to make sure you got the letters. I love you and we’ll talk later.

Love lit my best friend up from within, and even if every one of her heartbreaks was utterly devastating, she still never closed herself off. Every time she fell in love again, her joy seemed to overflow, into me and the world at large.

No Struggle No Life (The Sonnet) Ain't no life without struggle, Ain't no heart without heartbreak. Ain't no destination without the journey, Ain't no courage without some dread. Ain't no clarity without some confusion, Ain't no serenity without suffering. Ain't no contentment without disappointment, Ain't no resilience without failing. Ain't no mindfulness without mindlessness, Ain't no uplift without some devastation. Ain't no knowledge without ignorance, Ain't no salvation without self-annihilation. Ain't no I without the Us, without the We. Ain't no We, unless the norm is nonbinary.

Because whether it’s a friendship or it’s somebody that you really, really have a crush on, or somebody that you want to be with, someone that you wish would wanna see all of your sights with you, and walk all of your steps with you. I think, first of all, it’s brave to want that, and it’s brave to vocalize that you want that, and verbalize it. Because, on one hand, on one hand, you have this miraculous, incredible chance that that person will look at you and go, ‘yes, I want that, too.’ Either, ‘I want to be your friend’ or ‘yes, I want to be with you, I want to get to know you better, I want all that with you.’ But there’s also this devastating, heartbreaking possibility that that person will look at you and say, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t want that. I don’t want to know you better. I don’t want those things like that.’ And that’s why I think it’s really brave to put yourself out there and go searching for someone who feels the way that you feel, because it’s all really, relationships, it’s just, it’s just delicate, you know?

No one here wants to acknowledge that there might just be chaos and that some things happen because they can, like cars running people over, like bullets ripping through a skull or tearing open a heart, like blood clots filling lungs so you can’t get air, or cancer consuming what is left of the body. A pre-mapped-out lifetime doesn’t make the death of someone you actually love any less devastating. I am tired of hearing there is a reason for your death, for my heartbreak, and that when we get to the other side it will all make sense. It will never make sense, even when my heart stops hurting so much. I miss you. I wish you had never died. [...] Excerpt from: "It's OK That You're Not OK: Meeting Grief and Loss in a Culture That Doesn't Understand" by Megan Devine. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

The door opened and there he was. My heartbreak. My devastation. My ruin.

You can really love someone with all your heart and be devastated when they leave you to the point where you're crying to the heavens that you've lost your soul mate. But then you realize later on that they weren't that great. You saw an illusion and that illusion made you temporarily high and ecstatic. Love and Heartbreak are inter-dependent. If you look at love under the microscope, you will see that it contains pain and heartbreak. All love is pain, and all love leads to grief. Yet it is beautiful and sacred - such is life.

Cedar Capital Group Tokyo: Construction Site Health & Safety Review Accidents on construction sites are becoming a much more regular occurrence around the globe and can have devastating affects on families, communities and regions. Just recently we witnessed the destruction and heartbreak caused when the crawler crane toppled over onto the Masjid al-Haram, the Grand Mosque in Mecca, Saudi Arabia on 11 September 2015, which killed 118 people and injured a further 394. The majority of accidents on construction sites can be avoided if health and safety requirements are followed. An experienced health & safety advisor can assist you in identifying loss control techniques which in turn minimizes the risk to members of the public, your property and your employees. One of the most frequently occurring accidents construction sites is fire. Ignoring safety policies and procedures can have a disastrous effect and are a common cause of injury on a construction site. Fire extinguishers should be available and close by and you should appoint an employee to be on fire watch. The weather can be a source of accidents on construction sites. Sites become more susceptible as severe weather patterns continue to grow across the globe. In Asia, typhoons have become more frequent, we have seen buildings collapse during high category storms. These types of accidents can be avoided by appointing someone with the responsibility of monitoring the weather to make sure that the construction site is correctly braced before the typhoon arrives. The lack of site is another key factor that causes accidents. Construction sites are like playgrounds for inquisitive children looking for something to do so it’s imperative that you have secured the site with adequate fencing. Posting visible safety signs around the construction site in order to remind and protect the employees, visitors and members of the genera public. Always post safety signs at the entrance and ensure that all visitors wear the correct personal protective equipmentwhich includes a hard hat and safety boots. Cedar Capital Group are a Singapore based, capital equipment, company that leases construction equipment throughout Asia with core markets in Seoul, South Korea and Tokyo, Japan.

How’s your boyfriend?” I ask. I know Seth said they broke up, but I want to hear it from her. I won’t touch someone who is dating someone else. I have had enough heartbreak in that area to last a lifetime. “What boyfriend?” she asks. “Don’t give me hope if there is none,” I sing. But I’m serious. Totally serious. “We broke up.” “Are you devastated?” I want to know how she’s feeling. About all of it. “Elated,” she says instead. Thank God. A shiver crawls up my spine, because I’m seriously interested in this woman. “You sure you’re done with him?” “Positive.” She nods. Her eyes don’t leave mine. “I’m going to make you fall in love with me,” I warn. “You can try,” she says quietly.

All these months, she’d thought verbalizing her guilty deeds would cause her misery to multiply. She assumed the shame would strangle her, leave her devastated like a discarded waif. But instead, a small bud peeked out its newborn head, finding root in her soul. Hope. She cautiously raised her eyes, and Tilly pulled Rosalie into her time-aged arms. It was hard to believe they’d just met. It was hard to believe she’d confessed all, and still this woman snuggled her close. The tears came, but with each cry she released, it seemed the wind picked the heartbreak up and carried it away like an old crusty leaf. Then, when her past lay before her, naked and stark, with no more accusations and regrets, an irresistible urge to pray captured Rosalie. Vic, Birdie, her family all had spoken the truth of how Jesus took her punishment when He suffered and died on the cross. She’d heard more than one sermon that had proclaimed we simply had to confess our sins, and God would be faithful to forgive them. More than that, He’d also take the punishment too. She didn’t understand a love like that, but it was worth trying out. Take my punishment, Jesus. Rosalie knew she deserved to be condemned for her sins; she’d always known that. But she thought she could somehow serve the sentence herself by doing good things, working hard, acting perfect. For the first time, she understood that her sin was too heavy for her to carry, too weighty for her to pay off. She needed someone else to carry it for her. Her mom had sung of Christ’s “vast, unmeasured, boundless, free” love, but Rosalie had never thought it was for her. She had too much sin, too much darkness, too much pride. But now she knew His forgiveness belonged to her. And she belonged to Jesus. “Jesus, thank You for accepting me when I don’t deserve it,” she whispered. “From this day forward I want to live for You.” She closed her eyes, soaking in the sun, which had returned to warm her. And as she enjoyed the warmth of Tilly’s hug, Rosalie pictured Jesus holding her in the same way.

no element that could soothe or temper her heartbreak, alleviate her pain. They are terse and devastating. One has no titles, just X X X. Don't you sense when I cry for you are you really so far? And you are for me the beauty of life, the only one, for whom I endure loneliness and dated the same day, another four lines entitled Tragedy This is the hardest: to give oneself and know that one is unneeded to give oneself fully and to think that one disappears like smoke into void.

One and A Half Ex (Sonnets 1429, 1430) Once upon a time by the Bay of Bengal, a naive tiger fell for a vain sheep. The sheep had him eating out of her hand, only to discard him for another sheep. The tiger's world was turned upside down, abandoning home-n-uni he set out as monk. Then one afternoon underneath the tree, the monk awakened to prophetic dimension. The saintly tiger then returned home, Lo, commenced his sleepless self-education! He had already mastered all divine sight, Now he needed to muster a scientific arsenal. During his making he met a Balkan xena, she was everything he could ever dream of. But the tiger still had plenty struggle ahead, even for the perfect partner it was too much. She had a beautiful heart which grew weary, waiting for a giant with the world on shoulder. The first whole love of the tiger came to halt, after four magical years of timeless forever. Though devastated, unable to think-n-work, this time this was no longer a naive tiger. Gloom galvanizes conviction invincible, Shattered heart makes shade for the world.

my love stories have been devastatingly beautiful but devastatingly heartbreaking, too… things have felt so spiritual and so brutally human all at once. and i think i'm learning to let it all be true, to let myself feel all the things i've so passionately felt, but still keep letting go of what isn't meant to stay.

But something about the curve of his lips was more intimate than any touch. “A lot has happened. You have a lot to figure out. I can be a patient man, Colorado. A devastatingly handsome, roguishly scarred, heartbreakingly courageous, patient man.” I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t bite back a smile. “So take whatever time you need. Figure out how you feel. Figure out if Dean makes you feel the way I do, if he’ll ever let you in, and if you want him to, because the next time my lips touch yours, the next time your hands are buried in my hair—the only person you’re going to be thinking about is me.

Everybody has lost a loved one, gone through heartbreak, been touched by the birth of a child, a marriage, experienced devastation or loss or for that matter had their hearts completely and utterly filled with love and joy. The truth is we are not as separate as we imagine, many cultures of the world speak of this concept of togetherness and brotherhood and community. We can take great comfort in reminders like these that not only encourage us to see our own experiences in a unique light but to also view it in context with the rest of humanity and the fact that we all share similar experiences.

Everyone suffers heartbreaks in life. But in every situation, those who fight through the fear and the temporary pain will come back and tell you that what was devastating at the time eventually opened the door to something better.

The ebb and flow of waves crashing into you on the days your brain associates with that person. The sting of tears at the back of your eyeballs that force their way out regardless of where you are and what you’re doing. The way those tears taste exactly the same every time they fall. Like heartbreak, devastation, and open wounds that will never heal. That’s the only thing I taste today. The unique flavor of grief sticking to the roof of my mouth and making it impossible for me to speak

Shadi was always the very best, but Shadi in love—there was nothing like it. Somehow, she became even more herself. Even wilder, funnier, sillier, wiser, softer. Love lit my best friend up from within, and even if every one of her heartbreaks was utterly devastating, she still never closed herself off. Every time she fell in love again, her joy seemed to overflow, into me and the world at large.

In longing and heartbreak, in devastating test results and failed fertility treatments, in miscarriage and ectopic pregnancy and recurrent los - through the worst of your waiting, God is with you and for you.

In longing and heartbreak, in devastating test results and failed fertility treatments, in miscarriage and ectopic pregnancy and recurrent loss - through the worst of your waiting, God is with you and for you.

I’m not sure I even recognize the ever-presence of mercy anymore, the divine and the human; the messy, crippled, transforming, heartbreaking, lovely, devastating presence of mercy. But I have come to believe that I am starving to death for it, and my world is, too.

It’s the way of beauty, I thought. Destruction and devastation are always there, always demanding our attention. The chaos of life makes us forget that sometimes, if we don’t get too distracted by the wreckage, the losses and heartbreaks, we’re offered a glimpse of something better, maybe even something we can call divine. But we’ll miss it if we forget that beauty, like joy, is fleeting and never lasts more than a moment.

It can be heartbreaking to comprehend the suffering of more than a trillion creatures each year whose lives are destroyed by industries that enslave, brutalize, and slaughter animals for food or animal experimentation. In addition, when we learn about the research indicating that our societal addictions to eating animal foods and using products derived from animals are destroying our environment and quality of life, it can be devastating. Further, realizing our own complicity in allowing this to continue can stir regret, shame, or denial. Although finding the courage within ourselves to dedicate our lives and practice to the personal and social justice engagement necessary to reduce this suffering can be daunting, such wholehearted compassionate action, based on the wisdom of interdependence, is also a path to liberation and full awakening.

What happens when satire begins to seem like a statement of impotence, when it loses its power to shame? What lies beyond it? And what happens to a writer when he recognizes the limitations of his favorite form? This novel isn’t riddled with mere flaws but heartbreak. 'I think the novel is set in a war-torn, devastated, half-forgotten place,' Hanif said in a recent interview. 'That place is my head.

If you are reading this, you have survived your entire life up until this point. You have survived traumas, heartbreak, devastation, the different phases of life. and here you are. You go motherfucker. You are awesome

I wish I’d fallen softly. Light and graceful like a feather drifting slowly to the earth on a warm and dreamy summer’s day. I wish that I’d landed softly too. But there is nothing soft or graceful about that devastating moment when the worst has come to pass. The unavoidable truth is that it is hard, cold and brutal. All that you know to be true and good in life shatters in an instant. You feel like a delicate pottery bowl violently tossed from your place of rest, watching yourself crash and scatter across the hostile dark earth. The sound is deafening. Time stops. Inside, the quiet ache of shock and heartbreak slowly makes its grip known. They cut deep, these jagged edges of broken sherds. You gasp for air hungrily, yet somehow forget how to breathe.

Everyone in the city remembers the day the floodwater drained out, differently. Some were relieved, some were still in shock, some continued to look for loved ones, while others came home to devastation. But for almost all of us it was heartbreak. The city wore its defeat for days and nights on end. For a week after the floods, on the footpaths outside most homes were stinking piles of mattresses, pillows, quilts, cushions, straw mats, bedsheets and swollen rotting wood and food grains, and cars left open, even as the sun came down hard on us, making a mockery of it all.

standing on its northern fringes, embedded with the Kurdish Peshmerga, looking on as ISIS caused havoc and destruction across the country. I’d gone to see for myself the devastation they had wrought, and the scenes were beyond anything I could have ever imagined. The stories of mass executions, rape and torture were heartbreaking and incomprehensible. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and hearing: entire towns destroyed, bombs everywhere, relics smashed and museums looted; women and children sold into slavery; an entire civilisation imploding.

The games people play can be heartbreaking and devastating. When it comes to love, the truth can make you or break you. And sometimes it can do both. Sometimes the truth is all we need to set us free. I wasn’t out for revenge. I was searching for the truth.