Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; and every little absence is an age.
Thank you for coming into my life and giving me joy, thank you for loving me and receiving my love in return. Thank you for the memories I will cherish forever. But most of all, thank you for showing me that there will come a time when I can eventually let you go.
Some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle and end.
True love doesn't have a happy ending, because true love never ends. Letting go is one way of saying I love you.
That bitter word, which closed all earthly friendships and finished every feast of love farewell!
No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other's worth.
The song is ended, but the melody lingers on.
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.
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.
It's sad, but sometimes moving on with the rest of your life, starts with goodbye.
Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.
Love is missing someone whenever you're apart, but somehow feeling warm inside because you're close in heart.
Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair.
The story of life is quicker then the blink of an eye, the story of love is hello, goodbye.
Every parting is a form of death, as every reunion is a type of heaven.
And the relationships that happen become so intense, deep, involved and complex and really hard to say goodbye to. The hardest part of the show is saying goodbye when it's all done. It really breaks you.
I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle and end.
Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires.
You and I will meet again, When we're least expecting it, One day in some far off place, I will recognize your face, I won't say goodbye my friend, For you and I will meet again.
It's the way you ride the trail that counts.
And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.
Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next.
The reason it hurts so much to separate is because our souls are connected.
The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be only the beginning.
If you’re brave enough to say goodbye, life will reward you with a new hello.
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