Quotes About Closure

Tissez un triple cercle autour de lui, et fermez les yeux de terreur sacrée : Car il s'est nourri de miellée, et a bu le lait du Paradis.

I loved Eddie. You know that, Stan. He'll be enshrined in my heart until I draw my last breath. But he can't be enshrined in my life. I've got to let go and move on. So do you.

I can't wait to start never seeing you again.

Who better to confess to than a dying woman?

The importance of our connection, what it meant to find each other again, the way it made what happened to us and between us not be a waste, not be for nothing. He would know, he had to know, that not saying good-bye would be the worst end of all.

Is that the destiny of all friendships, no matter how good they are? To die out or fade away? To end?

An ending was an ending. No matter how many pages of sentences and paragraphs of great stories led up to it, it would always have the last word.

If you didn't love him, this never would have happened. But you did. And accepting that love and everything that followed it is part of letting it go.

He always did the leaving. But not this time. She kept walking, and did not look back.

I've seen what commitment leads to. Going in is the easy part. It's the ending that sucks! -Remy

It was terrible and awful when someone left you. You could move on, do the best you could, but like Eli had said, an ending was an ending. No matter how many pages of sentences and paragraphs of great stories led up to it, it would always have to have the last word.

With my mom, when someone was gone, they were gone. She didn't waste another minute thinking about them, and neither should you.

So what do you wear to dump somebody? she asked me, twirling a lock of hair around one finger. Black, for mourning? Or something cheerful and colorful, to distract them from their pain? Or maybe you wear some sort of camouflage, something that will help you disappear quickly in case they don't take it well.

And trying to break it down this way, to minor and major offenses, maybes and what-ifs, was like arguing over the origin of cracks in a broken egg. It was done. How it happened didn't matter anymore.

I'm starting to think, though, that some things never get that. The replay, and all. So at some point you have to make peace with it as it is, not keep waiting for a chance to change it

A ver, ¿qué hay que ponerse para cortar con alguien? ¿Negro, de luto? ¿O algo colorido y alegre, para distraerlos de su dolor? ¿O mejor algo de camuflaje, que te ayude a desaparecer rápidamente en caso de que no se lo tomen bien?

It was the best kind of love story . . . until there was an ending to it.

We can't be sad about it forever, you know? We've got to think back to the good times and just remember them; that's all we can do. We can't worry about the past or what happened at the end, any more. I can't and you can't.

I tried to see it as bringing things full circle. I'd left and, in doing so, fractured myself. By returning, I'd be able to be whole again.

Some things never get that. The replay, and all. So at some point you have to make peace with it as it is, not keep waiting around for a chance to change it.

I've seen what commitment leads to, and it isn't pretty. Going in is the easy part. It's the endings that suck.

It's not a switch you can just flip off, Dr. Marshall had told me once. If you didn't love him, this never would have happened. But you did. And accepting that love-and everything that followed is part of letting it go.

It was terrible and awful when someone left you. You could move on, do the best you could, but like Eli had said, an ending was an ending. No matter how many pages of sentences and paragraphs of great stories led up to it, it would always have the last word.

Death is good for some people.