If you like her, if she makes you happy, and if you feel like you know her---then don't let her go.
You only know you love her when you let her go.
I'll let her go. I won't let her go. I have to let her go. I can't let her go. I can let her go. I don't... want to let her go.
It's best to let her go," he says. No, no, that's wrong. It's never right to give up on someone.
so it's always a process of letting go, one way or another
I get it now. I have to make good on my promise. To let her go. To really let her go. To let us both go.
There's a long goodbye,and it happens every day,when a passerbyinvites your eyeto come away.Even as you smile a quick helloyou let her go,you let the moment fly...Too late you turn your head,you know you've saidthe Long Goodbye.
I saw a new world coming rapidly. More scientific, efficient, yes. More cures for the old sicknesses. Very good. But a harsh, cruel, world. And I saw a little girl, her eyes tightly closed, holding to her breast the old kind world, one that she knew in her heart could not remain, and she was holding it and pleading, never to let her go.
She had sacrificed her childhood to save her brothers; she loved her family above all else, and her spirits yearned to return home once more, to the wild forest and the land of mystic tales and ancient spirits whence he had taken her. That was the place of her heart, and if he loved her, he must let her go.
It feels like we should do something," he said. "Like, send her off on a barge out to sea and set her on fire. Let her go out in a blaze of glory." Chubs raised an eyebrow. "It's a minivan, not a Viking.
He'd gone to Louddon's fortress to take Madelyne captive. His plan was revenge; an eye for an eye. And that had been reason enough. Until she'd warmed his feet. Everything had changed at that moment. Duncan had known with a certainty he couldn't deny that they were henceforth bound together. He could never let her go.
I commit her to memory. When I'm alone, I feel a strange yearning, the hunger of a man fasting not because he believes but because he's ashamed. Not the cleansing hunger of the devout, but the feverish hunger of the hypocrite. I let her go every evening only because there's nothing I can do to stop her.
I was so tired of her getting upset for no reason. The way she would get sulky and make references to the freaking oppressive nature of tragedy or whatever but then never said what was wrong, never have any goddamned reason to be sad. And I just think you ought to have a reason. My girlfriend dumped me, so I'm sad. I got caught smoking, so I'm pissed off. My head hurts, so I'm cranky. She never had a reason, Pudge. I was just so tired of putting up with her drama. And I just let her go. Christ.
He'd kill for her, destroy for her, savage anyone who dared attempt to take her from him. And he would never let her go...even if she begged for her freedom.
You've got to know when to let a woman go if you want to keep her,and if you don't want to keep her you let her go anyhow so it's always a process of letting go, one way or the other.
So I let her go, too. And I'm sorry.
I've decided that I'm not going to try to squeeze myself into a friendship that hurts me anymore. I'm going to let her go and just be friends with people who make me feel good about myself.
There shall be poets! When woman's unmeasured bondage shall be broken, when she shall live for and through herself, man--hitherto detestable--having let her go, she, too, will be poet! Woman will find the unknown! Will her ideational worlds be different from ours? She will come upon strange, unfathomable, repellent, delightful things; we shall take them, we shall comprehend them.
Please, my dear brothers, let your wives and sisters go to the voter registration process. Later, you can control who she votes for, but please, let her go.
... I didn't know whether to feel angry at her for making me part of her suicide or just to feel angry at myself for letting her go.
Then he kissed her. It was a very long time before he let her go. When he did, she looked up at him, hurt and bewilderment on her face. 'Why did you stop?' asked Tessa. 'I thought you might want to breathe,' said Guy carefully. 'Breathe?'said Tessa , shocked. 'I don’t need to breathe when I’m with you.'
Conor held tightly onto his mother. And by doing so, he could finally let her go.
My mum is bright, ambitious, well read, political and very bolshie: when my dad was conscripted into the Army and posted to Libya, she convinced some general to let her go with him. I don't know how she managed it.
Let her go to Italy!" he cried. "Let her meddle with what she doesn't understand!
He would not let her go. Even though, staring into her open eyes in the swirling salt-filled water, with sun flashing though each wave, he thought he would like this moment to be forever: the dark-haired woman on shore calling for their safety, the girl who had once jumped rope like a queen, now holding him with a fierceness that matched the power of the ocean—oh, insane, ludicrous, unknowable world! Look how she wanted to live, look how she wanted to hold on.
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