Kara Swisher Quotes

I wish my father had lived longer. He died when I was 18.

I sang with my father for over 50 years, and now all of a sudden he's gone, and I just dropped out.

I learned through his death that, hey, life is short. You think you're going to live to be 75 years of age, and Brian proved that you're not going to live that long.

My dad was a pool-equipment salesman. He died when I was 12. Heart attack on a golf course.

Childhood feels so permanent, like it's the entire world, and then one day it's over and you're shoveling wet dirt onto your father's coffin, stunned at the impermanence of everything.

She had died at age twelve, and by now she was nothing but the memory of love-- nothing, now, but bones.

My father was only thirty-one when he died of a heart attack, much too young for a father to die and leave his young wife with five rambunctious little kids to take care of. I was the youngest. Only a couple of months old when he died.

Loss doesn't feel redeemable. But for me one consoling aspect is the recognition that, in this at least, none of us is different from anyone else: We all lose loved ones; we all face our own death.

No, my father passed away when I was 13 years old. I was very young.

The ocean moans over dead men's bones.

Death is very mysterious to us. One moment someone is there with us, and the next moment they're not.

I lost my dad when I was younger, and I know what it's like to lose a beloved parent.

I just don't get death at all. Yes, it's there. But I don't get it.

Life is really pretty tricky, and there's a lot of loss, and the longer you stay alive, the more people you lose whom you actually couldn't live without.

For pleasures past I do not grieve, nor perils gathering near; My greatest grief is that I leave nothing that claims a tear.

My dad was diagnosed with cancer, so we ended up burying him a year to the day that he was diagnosed.

We weep over the graves of infants and the little ones taken from us by death; but an early grave may be the shortest way to heaven.

And soon, too soon, we part with pain, To sail o'er silent seas again.

I was 28 when my father died, and I was an only child.

Every so often, we all gaze into the abyss. It's a depressing fact of life that eventually the clock expires; eventually the sand in the hourglass runs out. It's the leaving behind of everything that matters to us that hurts the most.

We never think that our mothers will die. It was like suddenly an abyss opened at my feet - I was standing on nothing. It was the strangest thing. Her passing away ripped the solidity out of the world.

My dad died when I was 23. His death was sudden and shocking - the result of a car crash - and I never got to say goodbye.

My father died prematurely at the age of 52 when I was 24, and it is a recurring regret that he never lived to see me succeed beyond university and drama.

When you read about a car crash in which two or three youngsters are killed, do you pause to dwell on the amount of love and treasure and patience parents poured into bodies no longer suitable for open caskets?

One half of my life has put the other half in the grave.