Phantom Limb Book Quotes

I want to talk to her. I want to have lunch with her. I want her to give me a book she just read and loved. She is my phantom limb, and I just can’t believe I’m here without her.”- on losing her best friend

I want to talk to her. I want to have lunch with her. I want her to give me a book she just read and loved. She is my phantom limb, and I can’t believe I’m here without her.

I drop into my chair, breathe in, let it out. Even now, with so many years gone, the memories are tricky. Like the ache of a phantom limb, the source of the pain may be gone, but the reminder of what’s been lost, so sudden and so keen, takes me unaware. I sit with that pain a moment, waiting for it to fade. Afternoon

From that very first night at the St. Regis, you have filled my brain, leaving no room for anyone else. Even with an ocean separating us, I could feel you, like the ache of a phantom limb.

Neuroscientist V. S. Ramachandran’s work with phantom limbs seems to confirm the brain’s remarkable ability to create a sense of cognitive unity even if the reality (of many selves, and of many layers of consciousness) is more complex.

Like the ache of a phantom limb, the source of the pain may be gone, but the reminder of what’s been lost, so sudden and so keen, takes me unaware. I sit

Like the ache of a phantom limb, the source of the pain may be gone, but the reminder of what’s been lost, so sudden and so keen, takes me unaware.

Like the ache of a phantom limb, the source of the pain may be gone, but the reminder of what’s been lost, so sudden and so keen, takes me unaware. I sit with that pain a moment, waiting for it to fade.

So love with phantoms cheats our longing eyes, Which hourly seeing never satisfies; Our hands pull nothing from the parts they strain, But wander o’er the lovely limbs in vain: Nor when the youthful pair more closely join, When hands in hands they lock, and thighs in thighs they twine, Just in the raging foam of full desire, When both press on, both murmur, both expire, They gripe, they squeeze, their humid tongues they dart, As each would force their way to t’other’s heart – In vain; they only cruise about the coast, For bodies cannot pierce, nor be in bodies lost.

if a person has an arm or leg amputated, we know that they will still have sensations in the missing limb.  It may ache or itch, for example.  This is called "phantom limb" syndrome.  The person is actually feeling these sensations in the Light Body of the missing arm or leg. The Light Body can feel things! And

Distractions In Prayer Ah dearest Lord! I cannot pray, My fancy is not free; Unmannerly distractions come, And force my thoughts from Thee. The world that looks so dull all day Glows bright on me at prayer, And plans that ask no thought but then Wake up and meet me there. All nature one full fountain seems Of dreamy sight and sound, Which, when I kneel, breaks up its deeps, And makes a deluge round. Old voices murmur in my ear, New hopes start to life, And past and future gaily blend In one bewitching strife. My very flesh has restless fits; My changeful limbs conspire With all these phantoms of the mind My inner self to tire. I cannot pray; yet, Lord! Thou knowst The pain it is to me To have my vainly struggling thoughts Thus torn away from Thee. Sweet Jesus! teach me how to prize These tedious hours when I, Foolish and mute before Thy Face, In helpless worship lie. Prayer was not meant for luxury, Or selfish pastime sweet; It is the prostrate creature’s place At his Creator’s Feet. Had I, dear Lord! no pleasure found But in the thought of Thee, Prayer would have come unsought, and been A truer liberty. Yet Thou art oft most present, Lord! In weak distracted prayer: A sinner out of heart with self Most often finds Thee there. For prayer that humbles sets the soul From all illusions free, And teaches it how utterly, Dear Lord! it hangs on Thee. The heart, that on self-sacrifice Is covetously bent, Will bless Thy chastening hand that makes Its prayer its punishment. Holy Saviour! why should I complain And why fear aught but sin? Distractions are but outward things; Thy peace dwells far within. These surface-troubles come and go, Like rufflings of the sea; The deeper depth is out of reach To all, my God, but Thee. FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER, 1814-1863

But I couldn’t get it off the ground. So many false starts and crumpled pages. Wastebaskets full, mocking me for weeks on end. And then one night I woke up in the dark and you were there, the ache of that phantom limb, throbbing with a vengeance. The pulse I’d been searching for.