Quotes About Closure

No matter how much you tell yourself your over someone, your heart knows the truth

This"I'm so over him. This is me, being over him. La,la,la.

it's wrecked, our relationship is smashed, and we don't have to pretend anymore.

No matter how much you tell yourself you're over someone, your heart knows the truth

No matter how much you tell yourself are over someone, your heart knows the truth.

Because, let's face it—no matter how much you tell yourself you're over someone, your heart knows the truth.

You don't have to call it 'the apartment,' " I say, suddenly uncomfortably aware that I am standing next to our bed half naked and about to be abandoned by my sort-of-ex-husband whom I probably should not have just slept with. "Just say, 'my apartment. I have to get back to my apartment.'

Bygones are gone. That's not right, is it?

In my bedroom, I squeezed shut my eyes, because it was too hard, that memory. Too hard, too painful, too much like losing a slice of myself, which, in fact, I had.

don't cry because it's over. smile because it happened.

Sometimes there is only one thing left to say, P. S. I Love You....

He can guess, but he won't ever know, not really. What it was like, what she was thinking, everything she'd never told him. Whether she thought he'd failed her, or whether she wanted him to let her go. This, more than anything, makes him feel that she is gone.

There is nowhere to go but on. Still, part of her longs to go back for one instant—not to change anything, not even to speak to Lydia, not to tell her anything at all. Just to open the door and see her daughter there, asleep, one more time, and know all was well.

She will figure out what happened to Lydia. She will find out who is responsible. She will find out what went wrong.

Não há outro sítio para onde seguir a não ser em frente. Ainda assim, uma parte dela anseia regressar por um instante - não para mudar o que quer que seja, nem sequer para falar com Lydia, nem para lhe dizer nada. Simplesmente abrir a porta e ver a filha ali, a dormir, uma vez mais, e saber que está tudo bem.

They would make a pact: to let the past drift away, to stop asking questions, to look forward from them on, never back.

The things that go unsaid are often the things that eat at you - whether because you didn't get to have your say, or because the other person never got to hear you and really wanted to.

What a job, clearing the homes of the dead, piling whole lives into garbage bins and lugging them to the curb.

He can't know what it was like, not the first time, not the last. He can guess, but he won't ever know, not really. What it was like, what she was thinking, everything she'd never told him. Whether she thought he'd failed her, or whether she wanted him to let her go. This, more than anything, makes him feel that she is gone.

What it was like, what she was thinking, everything she'd never told him. Whether she thought he'd failed her, or whether she wanted him to let her go. This, more than anything, makes him feel that she is gone.

Son, it's time to go home

I don't like having feelings," Eric said coldly, and he left. That was a tough exit line to top.

Sometimes you just have to regret things and move on.

One of the signs of a dysfunctional narrative is that we cannot leave it behind, and we cannot put it to rest, because it does not, finally, give us the explanation we need to enclose it.