Getting lost was not a matter of geography so much as identity, a passionate desire, even an urgent need, to become no one and anyone, to shake off the shackles that remind you who you are, who others think you are.
I'm trying to get at this. That is, a man may know that he belongs to, say, a group - this group or that group - but he feels himself lost within that group, trapped within his own deficiencies and without personal purpose.
You thought you were found but you realize that you were lost, and someday you may discover that you're lost now.
She was also, by the standards of other people, lost. She would not see it like that. She knew where she was, it was just that everywhere else didn't.
One way to express the spiritual crisis of our time is to say that most of us have an address but cannot be found there.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt this lost, even in Wales.
We are forlorn like children, and experienced like old men, we are crude and sorrowful and superficial—I believe we are lost.
Beauty is all about us, but how many are blind! They look at the wonder of this earth and seem to see nothing. People move hectically but give little thought to where they are going. They seek excitement ... as if they were lost and desperate.
Look at us all - we are all of us lost and in all of our different ways of pretending, we all fool ourselves into the very same hell. Look at the cross - we are all of us loved and one God meets us all at the point of our common need and brings to all of us - all who will let Him - salvation.
I was lost til you were found, but I never knew how far down I was falling before I reached the bottom.
I search and can't find myself. I belong in chrysanthemum time, sharp in calla lily elongations. God made my soul into an ornamental thing.
The young man knows that he is irretrievably lost. This is no town of cats, he finally realizes. It is the place where he is meant to be lost. It is another world, which has been prepared especially for him. And never again, for all eternity, will the train stop at this station to take him back to the world he came from.
The more that you follow me, the more I get lost
God’s grace is freely available but in order to receive it you have to realize you are lost without it.
Half the fun of the travel is the esthetic of lostness.
I wanted so much to have a life. Even just once, even for a second.
I couldn’t be with people and I didn’t want to be alone. Suddenly my perspective whooshed and I was far out in space, watching the world. I could see millions and millions of people, all slotted into their lives; then I could see me—I’d lost my place in the universe. It had closed up and there was nowhere for me to be. I was more lost than I had known it was possible for any human being to be.
For all these years I kept my mouth closed so selfish desires would not fall out. And because I remained quiet for so long now my daughter does not hear me... All these years I kept my true nature hidden, running along like a small shadow so nobody could catch me. And because I moved so secretly now my daughter does not see me... We are lost, she and I, unseen and not seeing; unheard and not hearing, unknown by others.
A life of writing books is a trying adventure in which you cannot find out where you are unless you lose your way.
Only I wasn't steering anything, not even myself.
The world is on fire! And you are laughing? You are deep in the dark. Will you not ask for a light?
Something was dead in each of us, and what was dead was hope
sometimes we have absolutely no idea where we are, we need the smallest clue to show us where to begin.
To be almost saved is to be totally lost.
...Whose souls, albeit in a cloudy memory, yet seek back their good, but, like drunk men, know not the road home.
