A Quote by Reese Hoffa

When you have lost people like I lost my birth mom at a young age and you remember the whole process of losing her, you want to grab on to something that makes you whole. — © Reese Hoffa
When you have lost people like I lost my birth mom at a young age and you remember the whole process of losing her, you want to grab on to something that makes you whole.
My mom lost her dad at a very young age, and has this sort of belief system of, you know, "If there's something that you want to do, if there's something that means a lot to you, do it now."
When you work this intensely on something, the recording process becomes a bit like cabin fever. I shut everything out and, for a while, I totally lost perspective. To an outsider, I imagine the whole recording process sounds like torture.
I remember being young and people passing me things under the bathroom to sign, like under the stall. Like adults. We were shooting at Disney World, and my mom went with me to the bathroom, and an adult woman came in and under the stall was like, "Can you sign this?" And I remember my mom being like, "Have you lost your mind? What is wrong with you? You don't do that! She is a child and you don't do that to anyone!" Who thinks that is a good idea? Someone.
Money lost, something lost. Honor lost, much lost. Courage lost, everything lost-better you were never born
One thing I did have under my belt was, my mother lost her mother when she was 11. She mourned her mother her whole life and made my grandmother seem present even though I never met her. I couldn't imagine how my mom could go on but she did, she took care of us, she worked two jobs and had four children. She was such a good example of how to conduct oneself in a time of grief. When I lost my husband, I tried to model myself as much as I could on her.
Lost! Lost! Lost! Better a whole world on fire than a soul lost! Better every star quenched and the skies a wreck than a single soul to be lost!
I have always loved to skate, and that is all I wanted to do. Having my whole, entire career taken away from me by somebody else - not losing it myself - I do have blame, but when somebody takes your whole, entire life away from you, and you don't know what to do, it's like you're lost.
When wealth is lost, nothing is lost; when health is lost, something is lost; when character is lost, all is lost.
When money is lost, a little is lost. When time is lost, much more is lost. When health is lost, practically everything is lost. And when creative spirit is lost, there is nothing left.
Something I tried to hold onto, to touch if only for a moment, but it slipped away from me like the air, like an illusion, or a dream that floats away and is lost. I wept in my sleep as though it was something I was losing now; a loss I was experiencing for the first time, and not something I had lost a long time ago.
When I was in senior year of high school, my mom lost her job, we lost our house, and we had to move in with my uncle and my aunt.
My mom was a sub teacher her whole life. My aunt was a teacher her whole life. So that wasn't hard to do. Performing in front of people started when I was a child. My mom ran a theatre. So we were around it. Getting up in front of people has never been an issue. So I think once you get over that part of it, I'm happy to teach anybody anything.
I remember ones I lost [shot]. I remember the ones I won, but I remember the ones I lost, something that I will never forget. Did it ruin me or hurt my career? It taught me about life, how to take the bad with the good.
You would hear stories of people that lost their houses. I remember people who had their whole lives turned upside down. I think people did learn lessons from the '80s.
It was like someone had died- like I had died. Because it had been more than just losing the truest of true loves, as if that were not enough to kill anyone. It was also losing a whole future, a whole family- the whole life that I'd chosen...
She lost much of her appetite. At night, an invisible hand kept shaking her awake every few hours. Grief was physiological, a disturbance of the blood. Sometimes a whole minute would pass in nameless dread - the bedside clock ticking, the blue moonlight coating the window like glue - before she`d remember the brutal fact that had caused it.
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