Best 80 quotes in «goodbyes quotes» category

People come in and out of your life. For a time they're your world; they are everything. There's no telling how long you will have them near...It's the good-byes that are hard.

saying goodbye isnt hard, but saying it to something you care about is whats hard, because you dont want to forget the emmotional pain and happiness they caused in you're life.

She has become so well versed in good-byes, the spoken and unspoken, the planned and unplanned, the teary ones and happy ones. Don’t be angry she begs, she surrendered and gave up long ago on anyone reading her, her life, her fears, her accomplishments, her gifts, her tears, her happy, her weird, her crazy, and all of her story. She screams I’m not the chapter titles or the end paragraph, don’t you see, I’m all the words written between.

Saying good-bye properly afforded me a measure of peace. It was a binding of a different sort, absent of the earth's power, but still hard proof that there is magic yet in the world.

She could have lived every minute she'd had with him better. She should have always spoken the best words she could to him.

So long as I remain in Day's life, I will hurt him. Any other alternative is impossible. Now, he is free.

Singing rose up from the convent, filling the woods with a peaceful echo that tried to penetrate her heart and smooth her features; but nothing could ease the pain of saying goodbye.

Some goodbyes are not ends but releases.

Sometimes saying 'goodbye' may be the best thing to say to someone!

She has become someone that I am bound to forget her.

squeeze his hand. He squeezes back. You stare up at the same sky together, and after a while he says, I have to go, and you say, Good-bye, and he says, Good-bye, Aza, and no one ever says good-bye unless they want to see you again.

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.

Stay,” Pauline said. Her eyes were almost feverishly bright, and Mia wanted to rise and fold Pauline into her arms. But Pauline waved her to sit and held up her camera. “Please,” she said. “I want to take both of you.” She took a whole roll, one exposure after another, and then Mal came out with a pot of tea and a shawl for Pauline’s shoulders, and Pauline put the camera away. By the time Mia boarded the plane back to San Francisco that evening, Pearl in her arms, she had forgotten all about it. “Do what it takes,” Pauline had said to her as she had hugged her good-bye. For the first time, she had kissed Mia on the cheek. “I’m expecting great things from you.” Her use of the present tense—as if this were just an ordinary good-bye, as if she, Pauline, had every expectation of watching Mia’s career unfurl before her over decades—penned Mia’s voice in her throat. She had pulled Pauline close and breathed her in, her particular scent of lavender and eucalyptus, and turned away again before Pauline could see her cry.

Ten times a day I am compelled to reflect on my past life ... and I can never justify to myself the spending of four years on dramatic criticism. I have sworn an oath to endure no more of it. Never again will I cross the threshold of a theatre. The subject is exhausted; and so am I. I am off duty forever, and am going to sleep.

That's what people say- 'it's not good-bye' - when they're too afraid to face what they're really feeling. I'm not going to see you tomorrow, Park- I don't know when I'll see you again. That deserves more than 'it's not good-bye.'" "I'm not afraid to face what I'm feeling." he said. "Not you," she said, her voice breaking. "Me.

The last day is way shorter than counting to ten.

There's nothing left to say. There's a million things left to say.

There was something at the edge of Silas’s lips that might have been a smile, and might have been regret, and might just have been a trick of the shadows. “Good-bye, then, Silas.” Bod held out his hand, as he had when he was a small boy, and Silas took it, in a cold hand the color of old ivory, and shook it gravely. “Good-bye, Nobody Owens.

They embraced in parting. There were tears in the merchant’s eyes: “I do not like parting.” “Life consists of partings,” said Arseny. “But you can rejoice more fully in companionship when you remember that.” “But I would (the merchant Vladislav blew his nose) gather up all the good people I’ve met and never let them go.” “I think then they would quickly become mean,” smiled Ambrogio. (p. 238)

This war is going to be full of women who fall in love with men they'll never see again. All we do is say goodbye over and over.

Time travel me back. Let me say good-bye again. A minute more, a moment, a chance to see. . .

Sometimes the hardest goodbyes are the ones never said, the ones that always just hang there in the back of the mind like a dark cloud. There's so much to say but no one to say it to because the person you want most to hear it is already gone. That's how he felt. Sorrow, regret, a wound so deep it didn't even bleed. Like a puncture wound, an ache that didn't heal but just hurt. He didn't know if he wanted it to heal. That'd be too much like a final goodbye.

We stood, holding each other's faces, memorising every last detail. I was deperate with my own need to capture this last, lingering moment, desperate to forget the horrible sink at the pit of my stomach telling me all this would be lost forever once they pulled the chip out. Please don't let me forget.

Which was just well: goodbyes had never been my strong suit anyway, and lately my life had felt like an unbroken series of them. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

You were the colors to my monochrome life. My morning light and my midnight dream. Flawed, yet whole. You used to think that you weren’t enough – but you were enough for me. You were my first everything. My fire. My tornado. You were the eye of my storm. The moment I saw you, I knew you were going to destroy my life. But I let it happen. There was just something magical and outlandish about playing with fire that I couldn’t resist. I wanted to be as close as I could to the idea of destroying myself. It didn’t happen out of the blue. Day by day – moment by moment, I started to lose myself. With every kiss, you took away a part of me. Until one day, I woke up and I wasn’t myself anymore. I never thought that a disaster could be so damn beautiful. I don’t regret it. But I regret waking up next to an empty bed and how unceremoniously you left when the damage was done. I saw your picture today, holding someone else’s hand. And it made me realize that some disasters don’t make a sound. Not every destruction stands still. Some of them might walk right past you.

a flower knows, when its butterfly will return, and if the moon walks out, the sky will understand; but now it hurts, to watch you leave so soon, when I don't know, if you will ever come back.

Where the cheerful children of unwritten poems, play all around, you will find me there.

Also, I suppose I wanted to say goodbye to someone, and have someone say goodbye to me. The goodbyes we speak and the goodbyes we hear are the goodbyes that tell us we're still alive, after all.

And I’m left staring out the window, watching District 12 disappear, with all my good-byes still hanging on my lips.

Bards don’t believe in goodbyes—we know that the roads we walk are winding, and we generally tend to come back to people and places we’ve known and been before, and often at just the right time.” I smiled. “We’ll meet again.

And she kept following the truck, like we were a very small parade, waving and waving, until Frank took the curve in the road and then she was gone.

Another time, another place.

Beso tus ojos y dejo mi corazón en tus manos

But..." I'm not ready for you to stop being my problem. "It makes more sense, Park. If you leave soon, you can still get home by dark.: "But if I leave soon..." His voice dropped. "I leave soon." "We have to say good-bye anyway." she said. "Does it matter if it's now or a few hours from now or tomorrow morning?" "Are you kidding?" he looked down at her, hoping he'd miss his turn. "Yes.

Come! Let us make that bargain. Think of me at my best, if circumstances should ever part us!

Dear heart, Stop being strong and accept that you are never happy with goodbyes.

Death is easy, living difficult.

Farewell - though it sounds very tragic - is sometimes the best exit from the hell of unhappiness!

As long as you loved somebody, each kiss was hope and wonder, but it was also the potential for good-bye.

For Sayonara, literally translated, 'Since it must be so,' of all the good-bys I have heard is the most beautiful. Unlike the Auf Wiedershens and Au revoirs, 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 Farewell. Farewell is a father's good-by. 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 Good-by ('God be with you') and Adios say too much. They try to bridge the distance, almost to deny it. Good-by 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 good-by. But Sayonara 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.

Flynn -I'm glad you ruined me." Her voice stabs my heart, because I recognize that tone. I've heard it before. "Don't start with the good-byes

Breathless, I gazed into his eyes. “I love you Ollie. No matter what happens, never forget that. I will always love you. You have a piece of my heart forever.” Beaming at me the tip of his nose touched mine as his forehead rested against my own. “I love you too Layla. You’ve had my heart since the moment you looked up at me from the hallway floor. You always will.

Goodbye, sir, & fare well. You’re in the clear.

Goodbyes are not for everlasting bonds. For those who are connected from beyond, their separation will not last Long.

Good-bye." she said. "Good-bye, Park." "Good-bye, Eleanor. You know, until tonight. When you're going to call me.

Goodbye," she said. When I didn't say it back, she rested her hand on the top of my head. The weight was strange and gentle. "I love you," she said. "And when I tell you goodbye, I don't mean forever or for long. Just that I'm going home now, and so are you.

He came up and kissed me on my forehead, and before he stepped away, I closed my eyes and tried hard to memorize this moment. I wanted to remember him exactly as he was right then, how his arms looked brown against his white shirt, the way his hair was cut a little too short in the front. Even the bruise, there because of me. Then he was gone. Just for that moment, the thought that I might never see him again… it felt worse than death. I wanted to run after him. Tell him anything, everything. Just don’t go. Please just never go. Please just always be near me, so I can at least see you. Because it felt final. I always believed that we would find our way back to each other every time. That no matter what, we would be connected—by our history, by this house. But this time, this last time, it felt final. Like I would never see him again, or that when I did, it would be different, there would be a mountain between us. I knew it in my bones. That this time was it. I had finally made my choice, and so had he. He let me go. I was relieved, which I expected. What I didn’t expect was to feel so much grief. Bye bye, Birdie.

He still had his eyes on me, and it occurred to me that he was thinking the same thing as I was; that I was very underdressed to be here. I needed to leave, and quickly. But I didn't know how to say goodbye...

He wasn't much cut out for serious conversations. And a goodbye is a serious conversation.

I can’t pray or weigh my words right; doomsday is here my friend, but you’re immune. We suffer for you. I’m weaving crowns of sonnets, dreads; a souvenir so you’ll never forget your friends.