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It hath been often said, that it is not death, but dying, which is terrible.
Sep 29, 2025
Gone - flitted away, Taken the stars from the night and the sun From the day! Gone, and a cloud in my heart.
Good bye may seem forever. Farewell is like the end, but in my heart is the memory and there you will always be.
The return makes one love the farewell.
Distance of Time and Place do really cure what they seem to aggravate; and taking Leave of our Friends resembles taking Leave of the World, concerning which it hath been often said, that it is not Death but Dying which is terrible.
It's the way you ride the trail that counts.
Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.
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.
No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other's worth.
Every parting is a form of death, as every reunion is a type of heaven.
Good-byes breed a sort of distaste for whomever you say good-bye to; this hurts, you feel, this must not happen again.
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.
But fate ordains that dearest friends must part.
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.
Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.
Man's feelings are always purest and most glowing in the hour of meeting and of farewell.
Don't be dismayed by good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends.
A man never knows how to say goodbye; a woman never knows when to say it.
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.
That bitter word, which closed all earthly friendships and finished every feast of love farewell!
The best things said come last. People will talk for hours saying nothing much and then linger at the door with words that come with a rush from the heart.
Nothing makes the earth seem so spacious as to have friends at a distance; they make the latitudes and longitudes.
Never forget me, because if I thought you would, I'd never leave.
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.
How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.
Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending.
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.
Some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle and end.
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.
The reason it hurts so much to separate is because our souls are connected.
Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.
Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.
So sweetly she bade me adieu, I thought that she bade me return.
Happy trails to you, until we meet again.
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.
Never part without loving words to think of during your absence. It may be that you will not meet again in this life.
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.
Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; and every little absence is an age.
Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires.
Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair.
Love is missing someone whenever you're apart, but somehow feeling warm inside because you're close in heart.
And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.
Sweet is the memory of distant friends! Like the mellow rays of the departing sun, it falls tenderly, yet sadly, on the heart.
Can miles truly separate you from friends... If you want to be with someone you love, aren't you already there?
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