A Quote by Rick Stein

Losing close relatives doesnt get any easier, really, but losing your parents is the big deal. — © Rick Stein
Losing close relatives doesnt get any easier, really, but losing your parents is the big deal.
Losing my parents really set me adrift in more ways than one. It's not just losing them. It's losing the possibility of family.
Losing a son, losing a daughter, a brother, a sister, losing a close friend - it can go beyond grief to isolation and feeling despair.
There comes that phase in life when, tired of losing, you decide to stop losing, then continue losing. Then you decide to really stop losing, and continue losing. The losing goes on and on so long you begin to watch with curiosity, wondering how low you can go.
What I worry about is that people are losing confidence, losing energy, losing enthusiasm, and there's a real opportunity to get them into work.
The real reason why I don't play in many big cash games is because I can't stomach the thought of losing $100,000 or more in any given session. If I play three consecutive days at the Bellagio, I might win two days but lose big on the third. Really, who needs the agony of losing that much money? Not me.
You don't give out trophies for losing. Trophies for sucking. That's a communist idea. You don't get a trophy for losing. You get a piece of pizza and you shut up. Trophies for losing? What the hell happened to us?
Losing a game is not a big deal, except you've got to make sure that you move on and get the next one.
We have so many distractions. We're losing the family unit. We're losing the one-on-one. We're becoming extremely narcissistic. And we have to be careful about that. There's a lot to deal with out there.
Losing ... really does say something about who you are. Among other things it measures are: do you blame others, or do you own the loss? Do you analyze your failure, or just complain about bad luck? If you're willing to examine failure, and to look not just at your outward physical performance, but your internal workings, too, losing can be valuable. How you behave in those moments can perhaps be more self-defining than winning could ever be. Sometimes losing shows you for who you really are.
A champion is suppose to hate to lose, and it wasn't like I was ever crazy about the idea. But I learned to deal with losing without having my spirit or confidence broken, which would help immensely over time, not just in the big picture but even in specific matches when I found myself in a jam. Fear of losing is a terrible thing.
It's the worst feeling in the world - losing, and losing in a final on the big stage is even worse.
Losing sucks. Nobody wants to be known for losing; you can't even have fun when you're losing.
We're constantly losing - we're losing time, we're losing ourselves. I don't feel for the things I lost.
That was my pride and joy - that I made it through all those years of minor hockey without losing any of my teeth; then, I ended up losing them in a car accident in New York when I was riding in a taxi. So, I end up losing my teeth, but not in the glamorous fashion I envisioned.
I don't like losing a ballgame any more than a salesman likes losing a sale.
My grandmother died from Alzheimer's, and it was a big shock. For the families left behind, it is not an easy closure. It's not a gradual fading. The person is losing so much of their humanity as they're dying. Losing your memories, you lose so much of who you are as a person.
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