Quotes & Sayings About Losing One's Head

The sky was so heartless and dark, and her body, her head, and particularly those damned thirsty trousers, felt clogged with Oceanus Nox, n,o,x. At every slap and splash of cold wild salt, she heaved with anise-flavored nausea and there was an increasing number, okay, or numbness in her neck and arms. As she began losing track of herself, she thought it proper to inform a series of receding Lucettes
telling them to pass it on and on in a trick-crystal regression
that what death amounted to was only a more complete assortment of the infinite fractions of solitude. — Vladimir Nabokov

Hard port!" She heard a man say from the backseat, of all places. Remy gasped, her startled eyes looked in the rearview mirror. Seeing a bearded man, she screamed, losing total control of the wheel. The other car came up fast and slammed into her right side, sending her into an uncontrolled spin. Her back pressed into the seat as the impact sent her head connecting with the driver's window. Remy thought she saw a white hand reaching for her, and then she didn't see anything at all. — Michael Phillip Cash

You see, I'd behaved pretty badly. Losing my head about someone I didn't really love and hurting someone I did. Why is one so stupid?"
"The heart has its reasons," said Will, "and the endocrines have theirs. — Aldous Huxley

I'm fighting a losing battle. I can't tell this story the way it should be told. This whole hotchpotch of characters, events, dates, and the infinite branching of cause and effect - and these people, these real people who actually existed. I'm barely able to mention a tiny fragment of their lives, their actions, their thoughts. I keep banging my head against the wall of history. And I look up and see, growing all over it - ever higher and denser, like a creeping ivy - the unmappable pattern of causality. — Laurent Binet

I'm kind of like a samurai. They say if you want to be a samurai, you can't be afraid of dying, and as soon as you flinch, you get your head cut off. I'm not afraid of losing this business. — Yvon Chouinard

It is the poor man who clenches so tightly to the gold he is given - for fear of losing it. The man of wealth spends his gold freely to accomplish his will in the world. It is the same with life.'
Suddenly ashamed of my conspicuous poverty, I lowered my eyes. But Scatha placed a hand beneath my chin and raised my head. 'Cling too tightly to your life and you will lose it, my Reluctant Warrior. You must become the master of your life, not its slave. — Stephen R. Lawhead

It might be worthwhile to take a familiar question - why there is so much crime in modern society? - and stand it on its head: why isn't there a bit more crime?
After all, every one of us regularly passes up opportunities to main, steal, and defraud. The chance of going to jail - thereby losing your job, your house, and your freedom, all of which are essentially economic penalties - is certainly a strong incentive. But when it comes to crime people also respond to moral incentives (they don't want to do something they consider wrong) and social incentives (they don't want to be seen by others as doing something wrong). — Steven D. Levitt

To douchebags!" he said, gesturing to Brad. "And to girls that break your heart," he bowed his head to me. His eyes lost focus. "And to the absolute fucking horror of losing your best friend because you were stupid enough to fall in love with her. — Jamie McGuire

It may seem to you that your life is over now. Your future without the person you love is no future at all.
Death is a head-on collision with your plans.
But everything in life
the gold fillings of your teeth, the cotton of your sheets, the air you breathe, all the food you will ever eat
everything there is was born from a collision.
Inside every single thing that lives is a debt to a distant star that died.
Nothing new is ever created without one thing colliding into another.
And something new is created when the person you love dies.
Because they are not the only ones who die: you die, too. The person you were when you were with them is gone just as surely as they are.
This is what you should know about losing somebody you love. They do not travel alone. You go with them. — Augusten Burroughs

When you kiss me, Gwyneth, I feel I'm losing touch with the ground. I don't know how you do it or where you learnt the trick of it. If it was from a film, well, we just have to go and see it together." He stopped for a moment. "What I really want to say is, when you kiss me, all I want is to feel you and hold you in my arms. Hell, I'm so in love with you that it feels like someone had emptied a can of gasoline somewhere inside me and set fire to it! But right now, we can't ... we have to keep a cool head. Or one of us, anyway." The look he gave me finally put an end to my doubts. "Gwenny, all this terrifies me. Without you, there'd be no sense in my life anymore ... I'd want to die if anything happened to you. — Kerstin Gier

Here you found a homeless guy wearing a decade's patina of grime and sweat, in for trying to beat up a dumpster (and losing); a street performer coated from head to toe in metallic spray paint, caught trying to fondle a nine-year old; two Elvis impersonators of the pudgy era, apprehended in the midst of a fistfight over who was the real deal (tidbit: one of them was); and a gaggle of drunks in a holding cell, all in varying stages of undress - one of whom wore only a traffic pylon on his head. — Daniel Younger

Rudyard Kipling, in his famous poetic description of what makes for mature and effective adulthood, wrote in part: If you can keep your head When all about you Are losing theirs And blaming it on you... If you can trust yourself When all men doubt you... This famous 1909 poem "If" was inspired in Kipling after observing one military leader's actions during the Boer Wars (Lt. Colonel Eduardo Jany, personal communication, October, 2007). — Michael J. Asken

She was sitting in a dark room, curled up and her head buried on her knees. His name echoing in her mind, like a thunder over a seashore. She was torn between the happiness brought by the waves, that touched her feet and fear of losing herself in the chaos. created by the sound that shattered her whole world into pieces. — Akshay Vasu

Strong emotional experiences are for the most part impersonal. Anyone who has hated another person so much that only chance stands between that person and death knows this, as does whoever has fallen into the catastrophe of a deep depression, anyone who has loved a woman to the dregs, anyone who has beaten others bloody or ever come up behind another person with muscles trembling. "Losing one's head," language calls it. Emotional experience is, in itself, poor in qualities; qualities are brought to it by the person who has the experience. — Robert Musil

Tibetans are not famed for their perseverance. Full of enthusiasm at the start, and ready for anything new, their interest flags before long. For this reason I kept losing pupils and replacing them, which was not very satisfactory for me. The children of good families whom I taught were without exception intelligent and wide awake, and were not inferior to our children in comprehension. In the Indian schools the Tibetan pupils are ranked for intelligence with Europeans. One must remember that they have to learn the language of their teachers. In spite of that handicap, they are often at the head of the class. There was a boy from Lhasa at St. Joseph's College, at Darjeeling, who was not only the best scholar in the school, but also champion in all the games and sports. — Heinrich Harrer

Within an hour, I had gone from anguish at the thought of losing him in Scotland, to a strong desire to bed him in the herbaceous borders, and from that to a pronounced urge to hit him on the head with an oar. Now I was back to tenderness. — Diana Gabaldon

I love you."
The words come out almost in a panic, as if there's no time. As if he's about to walk into Eden again, and I've got to say it before he disappears behind the door.
"I love you too."
Jimmy' response startles me back to the room, the tobacco tin forgotten in my hand. I close it and set it on the counter, afraid of whatever drug it is inside that has me hallucinating.
"I must be losing my mind," I say, shaking my head. "I thought I just heard you say that you loved me."
"I did," Jimmy replies.
"You did?"
"Of course. You said it to me first. It woulda been rude to leave ya hangin' there, wouldn't it? — Ryan Winfield

I WALK IN / I SEE YOU / I WATCH YOU / I SCAN YOU / I WAIT FOR YOU / I TICKLE YOU / I TEASE YOU / I SEARCH YOU / I BREATHE YOU / I TALK / I SMILE / I TOUCH YOUR HAIR / YOU ARE THE ONE / YOU ARE THE ONE WHO DID THIS TO ME / YOU ARE MY OWN / I SHOW YOU / I FEEL YOU / I ASK YOU / I DON'T ASK / I DON'T WAIT / I WON'T ASK YOU / I CAN'T TELL YOU / I LIE / I AM CRYING HARD / THERE WAS BLOOD / NO ONE TOLD ME / NO ONE KNEW / MY MOTHER KNOWS / I FORGET YOUR NAME / I DON'T THINK / I BURY MY HEAD / I BURY YOUR HEAD / I BURY YOU / MY FEVER / MY SKIN / I CANNOT BREATHE / I CANNOT EAT / I CANNOT WALK / I AM LOSING TIME / I AM LOSING TIME / I AM LOSING GROUND / I CANNOT STAND IT / I CRY / I CRY OUT / I BITE / I BITE YOUR LIP / I BREATHE YOUR BREATH / I PULSE / I PRAY / I PRAY ALOUD / I SMELL YOU ON MY SKIN / I SAY THE WORD / I SAY YOUR NAME / I COVER YOU / I SHELTER YOU / I RUN FROM YOU / I SLEEP BESIDE YOU / I SMELL YOU ON MY CLOTHES / I KEEP YOUR CLOTHES — Jenny Holzer

Keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you. — Rudyard Kipling

Losing your head in a crisis is a good way to become the crisis. — C.J. Redwine

You looked so beautiful- your hair spread out around your head against the linoleum. Though your think brown curls had thinned since you'd started losing weight, they still fell in soft waves. You reminded me of a mermaid, your skin all shiny, your lips so full compared to the harshness of your angular cheekbones and pointed chin. — Steph Bowe

I'm losing the appetite for strangers. Once I would have focused on the excitement, the hazard; now it's the mess, the bother. Getting your clothes off gracefully, always such an impossibility; thinking up what to say afterwards, without setting the echoes going in your head. Worse, the encounter with another set of particularities: the toenails, the ear-holes, the nosehairs. Perhaps at this age we return to the prudishness we had as children. — Margaret Atwood

Well, land sakes!" Hiro says. "Lookee here!" He whips his blade sideways, cutting off both of the businessman's forearms, causing the sword to clatter onto the floor.
"Better fire up the ol' barbeque, Jemima!" Hiro continues, whipping the sword around sideways, cutting the businessman's body in half just above the navel. Then he leans down so he's looking right into the businessman's face. "Didn't anyone tell you," he says, losing the dialect, "that I was a hacker?"
Then he hacks the guy's head off. — Neal Stephenson

I used to lie in a lover's arms getting a stiff neck, or needing to scratch my nose, or losing all sensation in my arm, unwilling to move lest the man find out I wasn't comfortable in his embrace...Would Snow White have rested all eight pounds of her head on any part of the prince? I doubt it, and I never did either. Sarah says that is why elderly women have such prominent cords in their necks. — Abigail Thomas

I was walking around in an almost blind, crazy rage of madness. There was a story burning a hole in my brain, and it was dying to come out on paper. It was begging of me to create it, but I didn't know where to begin. A month after giving birth to the idea, I felt like I was losing my mind. Ideas would pop into my head in the middle of the night, or during a midterm, and I missed them, quite narrowly, almost every time. Every time an idea left my mind without taking the shape of a word on paper, my mind would automatically begin to churn something just as impressive, or at least close to it. I was digging myself into a shallow grave, and I was getting nowhere. And this was even before the thoughts were committed to paper. — Leigh Hershkovich

Bridezellia was like General Patton she had an Operations Room, HQ established in her sitting room. Wall charts, to do lists, pictures, contact lists, mood charts, a calendar, list of dates and jobs were marked off with daily duties in her thick black diary. Her second in command was Saoirse, her local wedding planner. Nothing was going to be left to chance and nobody was going to ruin her prefect day. No expense was to be spared and fools were not suffered gladly. Raised voices were constantly heard in her phone calls to suppliers. Her personality changed and she became a hot head, losing her patience easily. Nobody entered her sitting room, the twilight zone without an invitation — Annette J. Dunlea

Dying a thousand deaths in my head to protect you is better than losing you one time in the flesh."
~ Gustaf Raeliksen — Renee Vincent

I don't know what will happen with us," he said softly. "I can't predict the future. If things don't work out between us, yeah, there's a chance you'll hate my guts. To me, losing you as a friend is a pretty big risk. Do you think I'd take that big a risk for a few nights of sex?" He shook his head. "I was having freakin' nightmares about you with those other guys. What you were doing." He buried his face in her hair. "Kerri, I don't want you to see other guys. Just me. — Kelly Jamieson

Hope is a waking dream.' I let the words echo in my head. The quote reminded me of that feeling you get when you start to wake from a dream you don't want to leave. That crushing sensation in the center of your chest, like you are losing an important piece of yourself you won't ever get back. — Jennifer Rush

Is that mistletoe?"
Jim nodded.
"Cool. We don't have that in Australia."
"So you've never kissed beneath the mistletoe."
She shook her head.
"When in Canada..." His eyes searched hers.
"When in Canada," she repeated softly.
Jim pulled her close, parted his lips slightly, gazed into her eyes and she forgot to breathe. Everything around them fell away. She forgot the people behind her, forgot the crowd in the church, forgot Scumbag Steve. Forgot that it was Christmas and she was in a foreign country about to kiss a stranger. None of it mattered. She gazed into Jim's eyes, losing herself in the soft gray depths.
"May this kiss be the beginning of your Christmas dreams come true," he whispered as he gently pressed his lips into hers. — Nicki Edwards

I lifted my head and looked down at him. "And never, never, not even with my boyfriends who were nice to me, did I feel safe enough with them, safe enough with how they felt about me, to throw attitude."
His body went still but his face registered surprise and I continued.
"I was scared of losing them. I was scared of them not thinking I was good enough. — Kristen Ashley

Feel that?" he asked. "You're the first woman who's ever made my heart beat like that. You're the first woman I've ever wanted to spend all my time with, the only one who could convince me to start a new life. You're the first woman who's ever made me genuinely happy. Who makes me glad to be alive, who makes me burn hotter than fire. You're the first woman who's ever made me afraid."
I stared at him. "Afraid?"
"Afraid of how good this is. Afraid it won't last." He pushed a lock of hair off my forehead. "Scared to death of losing you."
"Oh." I was speechless. I swallowed hard. "You're ... You don't have to be scared of losing me."
Something flickered in his expression that I didn't understand, couldn't decipher.
"I don't?" he said.
"No." I shook my head. "No."
"Good." He pulled me closer. "Because you're the first woman I've never wanted to let go. — Nina Lane

The final match-up of the round was by far the most satisfying for Rezkin. It was against the mace wielding Sandman who had murdered the young stave-master. The beast had already attempted to end the life of another competitor that morning. Dark Tidings did not even give the man a chance to put on a show. As soon as the announcer finished speaking, he drew the black blade, strode forward with purpose and disarmed the man, literally. After losing both appendages, the brute fell to his knees in shock. While the healers were running to treat the man before he bled out, Dark Tidings stood over the Sandman and said, 'Bracken Freedon of the Isle of Sand. You have been judged and found guilty. Bring nigh to thee, King's Dark Tidings.' The black blade came down in one fell swoop and took the man's head clean from his body. Green lighting crackled within the black swords length... — Kel Kade

Is it possible to specialize in more than one element?"
She laughed and shook her head. "No. Too much power. No one could handle all that magic, not without losing her mind."
Oh. Great. — Richelle Mead

Love equals a morbid and relentless fear of losing the other person. It's a freak-accident fear, a piece of space junk falling from the sky and obliterating him, leaving nothing but his smoking boots. It's the unfortunate-organ-defect fear - suddenly, on his thirtieth birthday, the little crack in his heart that's been there since birth will rear its ugly head and take him in his sleep while he's spooning you. It's the only way to know you're really in love, when you ask the question would it be harder to watch him die, or to know he'll watch me die? Is there more mercy in being the one who does the watching or in being the one who does the dying? It's when you realize what mercy-killing actually means, it's when you actually care to the point of tormenting worry. It's not roses and white horses, it's fucking brutal and it can send a person running for the hills. To love is brave and Will was the bravest person I knew. — Renee Carlino

Love your material. Nothing frightens the inner critic more than the writer who loves her work. The writer who is enamored of her material forgets all about censoring herself. She doesn't stop to wonder if her book is any good, or who will publish it, or what people will think. She writes in a trance, losing track of time, hearing only her characters in her head. — Allegra Goodman

She gave me a lopsided quirk of a smile. "Joss," her voice hoarse, barely audible.
I wanted to run. I know. That's horrible. But I wanted to run away from this part. People ending up in hospital had never concluded well in my life, and seeing her there, so vulnerable, so exhausted, just reminded me of how close we might have come to losing her.
I felt a hand squeeze mine and I turned my head to see Hannah watching me. She looked as pale as I felt, and her fingers were trembling between mine. She was scared too. I smiled reassuringly at her, hoping I was pulling it off. "Ellie is okay. Come on." I tugged on her hand and pulled her with me to Ellie's bed side.
I reached out for the hand Ellie had held out for her mom, and I slid mine into it, feeling relief and love as she gave me a gentle squeeze. — Samantha Young

What has prepared Heather for her life in the Burrow?
Sleep, being hit over the head once in sixth grade and losing consciousness for a minute, waking up to find out someone had pushed her off the swings.
A life made of air — Jim Krusoe

All your winning or losing of a good conscience, is in your first buying; for such is the deceitfulness of sin, and the cunning conveyance of that old serpent, that if his head be once entering in, his whole body will easily follow after; and if he make you handsomely to swallow gnats at first, he will make you swallow camels ere all be done. Oh, happy they who dash the little ones of Babylon against the stones (Ps. 137:9)! — George Gillespie

There is the image of the man who imagines himself to be a prisoner in a cell. He stands at one end of this small, dark, barren room, on his toes, with arms stretched upward, hands grasping for support onto a small, barred window, the room's only apparent source of light. If he holds on tight, straining toward the window, turning his head just so, he can see a bit of bright sunlight barely visible between the uppermost bars. This light is his only hope. He will not risk losing it. And so he continues to staring toward that bit of light, holding tightly to the bars. So committed is his effort not to lose sight of that glimmer of life-giving light, that it never occurs to him to let go and explore the darkness of the rest of the cell. So it is that he never discovers that the door at the other end of the cell is open, that he is free. He has always been free to walk out into the brightness of the day, if only he would let go. (192) — Sheldon B. Kopp

I don't really like this song," Emma had said.
"You told me it was your favourite."
"It's beautiful. But it always makes me sad."
"Why, love?" he'd asked gently. "It's about finding each other again. About someone coming home."
Emma had lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him earnestly. "It's about losing someone, and having to wait until you're together in heaven."
"There's nothing in the lyrics about heaven," he'd said.
"But that's what it means. I can't bear the idea of being separated from you, for a lifetime or a year or even a day. So you mustn't go to heaven without me."
"Of course not," he had whispered. "It wouldn't be heaven without you. — Lisa Kleypas

For a minute he stands there, looking at me, and I can tell that he knows why I'm crying, and he understands, and it's going to be all right. He opens his arms to me.
"Come here," he says quietly.
I can't move to him fast enough. I practically fall into him. He catches me and pulls me in tightly to his chest, and I let myself go again, let sobs run through me. He stands there with me and murmurs into my hair and kisses the top of my head and lets me cry over losing another boy, a boy I loved better. — Lauren Oliver

It's a huge step forward to realize that the worst thing to happen is never the event, but the event and losing your head. Because then you'll have two problems (one of them unnecessary and post hoc). The — Ryan Holiday

Why doesn't he say something to her?
But I knew why. Because there's the creeping fear that these moments don't actually exist outside your own head. No eyes meet across a crowded room, no two people thing precisely the same thing, and if only one person actually has that moment, is it even really a moment at all?
We know this, so we say nothing. We avert our eyes, or pretend to be looking for change, we hope the other person will take the initiative, because we don't want to risk losing this feeling of excitement and possibilities and lust. It's too perfect. That little second of hope is worth something, possibly for ever, as we lie on out deathbeds, surrounded by our children, and our grandchildren and our great-grandchildren, and we can't help but quickly give on last selfish, dying thought to what could have happened if we'd actually said hello to that girl in the Uggs selling CDs outside Nando's seventy-four years earlier. — Danny Wallace

All that Syrio Forel had taught her went racing through her head. Swift as a deer. Quiet as shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine. Fear cuts deeper than swords. The man who fears losing has already lost. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. — George R R Martin

Late-Flowering Lust

My head is bald, my breath is bad,
Unshaven is my chin,
I have not now the joys I had
When I was young in sin.
I run my fingers down your dress
With brandy-certain aim
And you respond to my caress
And maybe feel the same.
But I've a picture of my own
On this reunion night,
Wherein two skeletons are shewn
To hold each other tight;
Dark sockets look on emptiness
Which once was loving-eyed,
The mouth that opens for a kiss
Has got no tongue inside.
I cling to you inflamed with fear
As now you cling to me,
I feel how frail you are my dear
And wonder what will be--
A week? or twenty years remain?
And then--what kind of death?
A losing fight with frightful pain
Or a gasping fight for breath?
Too long we let our bodies cling,
We cannot hide disgust
At all the thoughts that in us spring
From this late-flowering lust. — John Betjeman

I hope your future includes me. I mean, someone has to continue to kick your butt in pool."
Noah laughed as he snagged his fingers around my belt loops and dragged me closer. "I was letting you win."
"Please." His eyes had about fallen out of his head when I'd sunk a couple of balls off the break. "You were losing. Badly." I wondered if he also reveled in the warmth of being this close again.
"Then I guess I'll have to keep you around. For good. You'll be useful during a hustle." He lowered his forehead to mine and his brown eyes, which had been laughing seconds ago, darkened as he got serious. "I have a lot I want to say to you. A lot I want to apologize for."
"Me, too. — Katie McGarry

It is easy to see that, even in the freedom of early youth, an American girl never quite loses control of herself; she enjoys all permitted pleasures without losing her head about any of them, and her reason never lets the reins go, though it may often seem to let them flap. — Alexis De Tocqueville

You are figuring out how to produce a result that you desire in your life. You are not thinking about losing something or maintaining the status quo. You are working to move your life forward from where it is now, making it better than what it is today, considering how you desire your life to be - and that's exciting! Gain gives you focus, a direction to head toward. — Steve McClatchy

And if all that wasn't enough, you're a good fucking human being, and I'm not losing you to whatever bullshit lies your head is telling you. I know you don't have any family, so I'm officially stepping in and stepping up. I will fight for you until you can fight for yourself. You hear me? The — Laura Kaye

Pressing my head to his heart, I listened hard, straining to hear any gurgle or murmur of life. Hearing nothing, I felt the shock settle into my mind, slowing it down and then turning it off.
"Don't leave me, Noah. Please, don't go," I whispered into the darkness as the light spray of rain touched my face.
If only I could turn back time.
I would tell him yes. — Karen Ann Hopkins

I'd say it's that most people think that very wealthy people take huge risks and that's why they have huge rewards. But the very best on earth are completely obsessed with not losing money. That sounds overly simplistic, but they know that if you lost 50 percent, it takes 100 percent to get even. Most people don't make that math in their head, so it takes years and years. They are obsessed with not losing money. — Tony Robbins

We were just speaking to your friend here about the craft of brewing potions to enhance the libido. It seems he has a wealth of knowledge regarding plants and herbs."I lowered my eyes to him, my head swimming at the only part of her greeting that I actually heard "You mean you can brew potions to increase sex drive?"She looked confused. "Well of course! We are trying to save our people from extinction, which means we must mate as often as possible. We find the task can become arduous after eight or nine couplings. The potions are what keep us going. Why, it's in the bath we're soaking in now."I thought I was having a small aneurism. "I knew it!" I shouted stupidly. "I thought I was losing my mind! — Alisha Basso

Why am I holding on to this stuff? Some of this junk is losing its punch. Pictures. Pieces of paper with writing on them - I can no longer connect with the thoughts or feelings that birthed them, that drove me in that panicky desperate moment to scribble in a barely legible scrawl as if on a cave wall. All say the same thing in some form or another: "I am here. This is me in this moment." Do I have some fantasy that this stuff will be important after I die? Do I think that scholars will be thrilled that I left such a disorganized treasure trove of creative evidence of me? Will the archives be fought over by college libraries? What will probably happen is my brother will come out with my mother and look in the boxes. My mother will hold up a VHS or a cassette and say to my brother, "Do I have a machine that plays these?" My brother will shake his head no and they will throw it all away. — Marc Maron

Start meditating. Start putting off the constant chattering of the head. Slowly, the mind becomes quiet. Get into things where the mind is not needed - for example, dancing. Dance, and dance to abandon, because in dance the mind is not needed. You can lose yourself in a dance. In losing yourself in a dance, the heart will start functioning again. Drown yourself in music. And slowly you will see that there is a totally different world of the heart. And in the heart there is always trust. The heart does not know how to doubt, just as the mind does not know how to trust. — Osho

If you don't feel you are possibly on the edge of humiliating yourself, of losing control of the whole thing, then what you're doing probably isn't very vital.
If you don't feel that you are writing somewhat over your head, why do it? If you don't have some doubt of your authority to tell this story, then you're not trying to tell enough. — John Irving

At the moment, he kinda knew how the male praying mantis felt when he
was approaching Ms. Mantis, knowing the sex was going to be great but he was going to gethis head bitten off.
Ah, well. Some things were worth losing your head. — Linda Howard

I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind — Edgar Allan Poe

I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet, but upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken.
But I didn't really mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted, and then losing it to know what true freedom is.
When the people I used to know found out what I had been doing, how I'd been living, they asked me why - but there's no use in talking to people who have home.
They have no idea what it's like to seek safety in other people - for home to be wherever you lay your head. — Lana Del Rey

She goes on with her beautiful hair and mouth like before,
I go on like before, alone in the field.
It's like my head had been lowered,
And if I think this, and raise my head
And the golden sun dries the need to cry I can't stop having.
How vast the field and interior love... !
I look, and I forget, like dryness where there was water and trees losing their leaves. — Alberto Caeiro

Remember, FDA employees are serious about fear. We pay these people to panic about an iota of rodent hair in our chili, even when the recipe calls for it. FDA employees are first-class agonizers, world champions at losing sleep. When Meryl Streep got hysterical about Alar, they actually checked the apples instead of Meryl's head. — P. J. O'Rourke

Coward, says the nagging voice inside my head. You should talk to him. Find out what he has to say.
What if he says we belong together?
Well, then you'll have to deal with that. But at least you won't be running away.
I think it's more of a brisk walk.
Whatever.
I'm having an argument with myself. And I'm losing. So not a good sign. — Cynthia Hand

Jeremy shook his head doubtfully. "I don't know. I think you've met your match."
Jason scoffed at the very idea. "There's no such thing."
"Well, from what I've seen and heard so far, the lawyer is up by two."
Jason considered this. He may not have liked losing, but he loved the thrill of the game.
"We'll see how long that lasts ... " he mused out loud. — Julie James

You saved me, you know. Life had me running. Had me by the throat, and I really was falling under, losing hope. And then I met you, and you gave me a reason to keep my head above water. You taught me to swim. You taught me to life. And instead of giving up, I fell in love. I fell under your spell, Kylie, and ever single day since, I've fallen further and further under for you. — Jasinda Wilder