Thou art my father, thou my author, thou my being gav'st me; whom should I obey but thee, whom follow?
He lost himself in the words and images conjured in his mind and for a while forgot ... He found himself flying among stars and planets ...
In order to welcome redemption, one must first embrace the utter hopelessness of failure. For how can a man look for rescue unless he knows he is truly lost?
I no longer believe in love," she said bitterly. "When people claim to have lost their heart, it's usually only their wits that have vanished.
It was not really Saturday night, at least it may have been, for they had long lost count of the days; but always if they wanted to do anything special they said this was Saturday night, and then they did it.
We're cool," I say calmly, although I feel something else. I feel... sad. Like I've lost something I never quite had.
Perspective gets lost in moral certainties. Which only means that no one was ever burned at the stake by a doubter.
The recognition of oneself as a part of nature, and reliance on natural things, are disappearing for hundreds of millions of people who do not know that anything is being lost.
I am thankful to the Lord for my redemption. I was once lost, now I am saved by grace.
I've never been in love. I've dreamt of it day and night, but my heart is like a fine piano no one can play because the key is lost.
This place reminds me of the time I had amnesia. I think. It also reminds me of being in love. That must mean I’m lost.
When I was a child, books were everything. And so there is in me, always, a nostalgic, yearning for the lost pleasure of books. It is not a yearning that one ever expects to be fulfilled.
I had to put away my toy so it didn’t get lost. After all, cats can’t read maps or ask for directions, and they don’t possess GPS.
She took comfort in the familiarity of his smell, knowing that if she lost all her possessions and her home, at least she would have her family.
From an evolutionary point of view, most emotions - fear, desire, anger - serve some practical purpose, but nostalgia is a useless, futile thing because it is a longing for something that is permanently lost . . . .
Also the air: the air is full of sighs and cries. These are never lost: if you listen carefully, with a sympathetic ear, you can hear them echoing forever within the second sphere.
This you have to understand. There's only one way to hurt a man who's lost everything. Give him back something broken.
He's lost his colour very far from here, Poured it down shell-holes till the veins ran dry
My chips are all cashed out. There's nothing to lose. Or maybe I've already lost it and found it, and whatever else there might be to lose...
A lost person or article is still what it is, still valuable in itself, but in the wrong place, disconnected from its purpose and unable to be or do whatever it is intended to be or do.
The harmonica has musical wind, and is the breath of soul. It’s like a sad, lonely I love you lost in the breeze.
