Missing People Quotes

Missing People Quote of the day

I don't know -- maybe the world has two different kinds of people, and for one kind the world is this completely logical, rice pudding place, and for the other it's all hit-or-miss macaroni gratin.

In life, people tend to wait for good things to come to them. And by waiting, they miss out.

I wonder if, as you get older, you stop missing people so fiercely. Maybe growing up is just focusing on what you've got, instead of what you don't.

I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can't stop them. They leave me and I love them more.

I love my family and I miss them very much but I'm a new person now. I know a lot of people will not agree with what I've done, but it was right for me.

I like entertaining people. I really miss it.

I really miss being able to blend in with people.

They spoke truth and a lot of people listened.... that voice, Kurt we miss you.

You can truly miss characters. Not like you miss people, but you can still miss them.

I think there has always been an obsession with youth and beauty. What's missing is the equal obsession with respect for…older people…and their wisdom and knowledge and courage.

The thing I miss about performing is being with people.

Sometimes, when you're close to someone, you miss things. Other people can see them, but you can't.

There are more than a few messages from lonely people wondering why they never find themselves described...I illustrated one, "How come no one ever misses me?" They kill me, those.

The zeitgeist is ever-changing. If you try second guess what people want, you'll miss it.

They were missing all the enthusiasm, the creativity; that whole excitement about the music was lost. A lot of people are really going back looking for that.

Suppose I could shoot myself in the mouth, but what if I miss? People will laugh at me.

I miss being able to call people back instead of having to text them that I can't talk right now.

I learned that I'm so busy with what I'm doing, so focused on what I'm doing, that I miss a lot of opportunities for interacting with people.

A sense of desolation settled within me: a cold, slimy stone lodged under my lungs. There was nothing happy about the woods, I thought, especially at night.

She made an inarticulate sound of distress at the sight that met her eyes. It was a fire, and it was the bookstore on the far side of the square that was burning.

I wasn't sure if it was safe for me to be sharing time and space with other people, who all seemed so much gentler and safer and less of a secret to themselves than I felt I was.

People are... Full of contradictions. They're lonely. And then they're not. They're missed. And then they're not.