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849b6de
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It always is harder to be left behind than to be the one to go...
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sadness
goodbyes
truths
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Bodie Thoene; Brock Thoene |
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4a46e4a
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Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot be always torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do.
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life
goodbyes
parting
sad
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J.R.R. Tolkien |
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31a4cdf
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He nods, as if to acknowledge that endings are almost always a little sad, even when there is something to look forward to on the other side.
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moving-on
goodbyes
growing-up
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Emily Giffin |
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c633c15
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there's nothing to discuss there's nothing to remember there's nothing to forget it's sad and it's not sad seems the most sensible thing a person can do is sit with drink in hand as the walls wave their goodbye smiles one comes through it all with a certain amount of efficiency and bravery then leaves some accept the possibility of God to help them get through others take it staight on and to these I drink tonight.
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poem
independence
poetry
death
sadness
god
life
love
bukowski
goodbyes
help
goodbye
forgetting
forget
sad
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Charles Bukowski |
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d17cf81
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For , literally translated, 'Since it must be so,' of all the good-bys I have heard is the most beautiful. Unlike the and , it does not try to cheat itself by any bravado 'Till we meet again,' any sedative to postpone the pain of separation. It does not evade the issue like the sturdy blinking . is a father's . It is - 'Go out in the world and do well, my son.' It is encouragement and admonition. It is hope and faith. But it passes over the significance of the moment; of parting it says nothing. It hides its emotion. It says too little. While ('God be with you') and say too much. They try to bridge the distance, almost to deny it. is a prayer, a ringing cry. 'You must not go - I cannot bear to have you go! But you shall not go alone, unwatched. God will be with you. God's hand will over you' and even - underneath, hidden, but it is there, incorrigible - 'I will be with you; I will watch you - always.' It is a mother's . But says neither too much nor too little. It is a simple acceptance of fact. All understanding of life lies in its limits. All emotion, smoldering, is banked up behind it. But it says nothing. It is really the unspoken good-by, the pressure of a hand, 'Sayonara.
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spanish
emotion
god
japanese
goodbyes
german
farewell
english
french
mother
father
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Anne Morrow Lindbergh |
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08ebc87
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The best thing about endings is knowing that just ahead is the daunting task to start over.
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goodbyes
leaving
endings
starting-over
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Jodi Picoult |
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92e3099
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The tragedy of life, Howard, is not that the beautiful die young, but that they grow old and mean. It will not happen to me.
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death-and-dying
life
goodbyes
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Raymond Chandler |
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c021b32
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Despite the fact that I have no regrets about how things turned out in my life, I still can't help wanting to understand my intense relationship with Leo, as well as that turbulent time between adolescence and adulthood when everything feels raw and invigorating and scary-and why those feelings are all coming back to me now.
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understanding
relationships
goodbyes
growing-up
endings
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Emily Giffin |
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5d6f549
|
"What's done is done. Say good-bye to the past, and hello to the future And we're wasting time, when already we've wasted enough. We've got everything ahead, waiting for us." Just the right words to make me feel real, alive, free! Free enough to forget thoughts of revenge." --
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time
revenge
free
thoughts
future
fin
alive
finished
wasting-time
goodbyes
real
complete
done
waiting
wasted
everything
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V.C. Andrews |
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2d3523a
|
Another time, another place.
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goodbyes
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Richard Bachman |
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5e8d200
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Look, I hate good-byes, too. But sometimes, we need them just to survive.
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goodbyes
morganville-vampires
shane-collins
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Rachel Caine |
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e48dd69
|
There should have been a better farewell. But in the end, there never is. And we take what meagre scraps we can find.
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goodbyes
farewell
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Richard K. Morgan |
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a5a38a5
|
"Come, Paul!" she reiterated, her eye grazing me with its hard ray like a steel stylet. She pushed against her kinsman. I thought he receded; I thought he would go. Pierced deeper than I could endure, made now to feel what defied suppression, I cried - "My heart will break!" What I felt seemed literal heart-break; but the seal of another fountain yielded under the strain: one breath from M. Paul, the whisper, "Trust me!" lifted a load, opened an outlet. With many a deep sob, with thrilling, with icy shiver, with strong trembling, and yet with relief - I wept. "Leave her to me; it is a crisis: I will give her a cordial, and it will pass," said the calm Madame Beck. To be left to her and her cordial seemed to me something like being left to the poisoner and her bowl. When M. Paul answered deeply, harshly, and briefly - "Laissez-moi!" in the grim sound I felt a music strange, strong, but life-giving. "Laissez-moi!" he repeated, his nostrils opening, and his facial muscles all quivering as he spoke. "But this will never do," said Madame, with sternness. More sternly rejoined her kinsman - "Sortez d'ici!" "I will send for Pere Silas: on the spot I will send for him," she threatened pertinaciously. "Femme!" cried the Professor, not now in his deep tones, but in his highest and most excited key, "Femme! sortez a l'instant!" He was roused, and I loved him in his wrath with a passion beyond what I had yet felt. "What you do is wrong," pursued Madame; "it is an act characteristic of men of your unreliable, imaginative temperament; a step impulsive, injudicious, inconsistent - a proceeding vexatious, and not estimable in the view of persons of steadier and more resolute character." "You know not what I have of steady and resolute in me," said he, "but you shall see; the event shall teach you. Modeste," he continued less fiercely, "be gentle, be pitying, be a woman; look at this poor face, and relent. You know I am your friend, and the friend of your friends; in spite of your taunts, you well and deeply know I may be trusted. Of sacrificing myself I made no difficulty but my heart is pained by what I see; it must have and give solace. Leave me!" This time, in the "leave me" there was an intonation so bitter and so imperative, I wondered that even Madame Beck herself could for one moment delay obedience; but she stood firm; she gazed upon him dauntless; she met his eye, forbidding and fixed as stone. She was opening her lips to retort; I saw over all M. Paul's face a quick rising light and fire; I can hardly tell how he managed the movement; it did not seem violent; it kept the form of courtesy; he gave his hand; it scarce touched her I thought; she ran, she whirled from the room; she was gone, and the door shut, in one second. The flash of passion was all over very soon. He smiled as he told me to wipe my eyes; he waited quietly till I was calm, dropping from time to time a stilling, solacing word. Ere long I sat beside him once more myself - re-assured, not desperate, nor yet desolate; not friendless, not hopeless, not sick of life, and seeking death. "It made you very sad then to lose your friend?" said he. "It kills me to be forgotten, Monsieur," I said."
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jealousy
love
lucy-snowe
villette
goodbyes
separation
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Charlotte Brontë |
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1aad74d
|
Whatever the cause, I could not meet his sunshine with cloud. If this were my last moment with him, I would not waste it in forced, unnatural distance. I loved him well - too well not to smite out of my path even Jealousy herself, when she would have obstructed a kind farewell. A cordial word from his lips, or a gentle look from his eyes, would do me good, for all the span of life that remained to me; it would be comfort in the last strait of loneliness; I would take it - I would taste the elixir, and pride should not spill the cup.
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lucy-snowe
villette
goodbyes
hurt
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Charlotte Brontë |
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1f3ca1b
|
I was last. Sam walked up and held me for a long time. Finally, she whispered in my ear. She said a lot of wonderful things about how it was okay that I wasn't ready last night and how she would miss me and how she wanted me to take care of myself while she was gone. 'You're my best friend,' was all I could say in return. She smiled and kissed my cheek, and it was like for a moment, the bad part of last night disappeared. But it still felt like a goodbye rather than a 'see ya.' The thing was, I didn't cry. I didn't know what I felt. Finally, Sam climbed into her pickup, and Patrick started it up. And a great song was playing. And everyone smiled. Including me. But I wasn't there anymore.
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numbness
goodbyes
numb
goodbye
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Stephen Chbosky |
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d237c3b
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Not so bad this ending because one is getting used to endings: life like Morse, a series of dots and dashes, never forming a paragraph.
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life
vignettes
goodbyes
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Graham Greene |