As the presence of those we love is as a double life, so absence, in its anxious longing and sense of vacancy, is as a foretaste of death.
Happy trails to you, until we meet again. Some trails are happy ones, Others are blue. It's the way you ride the trail that counts, Here's a happy one for you.
Why can't we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn't work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves. Then we would have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos.
Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.
No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other's worth.
The loss of a friend is like that of a limb; time may heal the anguish of the wound, but the loss cannot be repaired.
Nothing makes the earth seem so spacious as to have friends at a distance; they make the latitudes and longitudes.
There is a time for departure even when there's no certain place to go.
How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.
Can miles truly separate you from friends... If you want to be with someone you love, aren't you already there?
Could we see when and where we are to meet again, we would be more tender when we bid our friends goodbye.
Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.
Not to understand a treasure's worth till time has stole away the slighted good, is cause of half the poverty we feel, and makes the world the wilderness it is.
Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; and every little absence is an age.
One kind kiss before we part, Drop a tear and bid adieu; Though we sever, my fond heart Till we meet shall pant for you.
It's the way you ride the trail that counts.
Good-byes breed a sort of distaste for whomever you say good-bye to; this hurts, you feel, this must not happen again.
It feels right. But it's emotional. Saying goodbye to anything you've done that long is hard.
Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending.
Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires.
Happy trails to you, until we meet again.
In the hope to meet Shortly again, and make our absence sweet.
Sweet is the memory of distant friends! Like the mellow rays of the departing sun, it falls tenderly, yet sadly, on the heart.
Gone - flitted away, Taken the stars from the night and the sun From the day! Gone, and a cloud in my heart.
Good bye, proud world! I'm going home; Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine
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