Quotes About Separation

hanging out the window, Amber blew her a kiss. a lump the size of a fist clogged Heather's throat, while a breeze from th sea pushed her thick hair away from her face. tears trickled unchecked down her cheeks.

When we pushed away from the moorings various parents waved from the porch and others clustered on the dock. We rushed, worried that they'd betray us with last-minute asinine chitchat. Sure enough, one dimwit yelled: "Did you remember your inhaler?" (Two of us were asthmatics.) "Shut up! Shut up!" we implored, hands over ears. None of us wanted to see a man go down that way. "And what about the EpiPens?" shouted the low-status mother.

As Mabel inserts herself between husband and wife, and then between poet and 'Sister', and as a fissure in the family cracks and then breaks open early in 1885

I'd rather lose her from my life, but know she was alive and well than lose her altogether to death.

Does Roxy sleep with you, or should I take her downstairs?" "Oh, no. She sleeps with me," Valerie said, glancing to Roxy herself. "Lucky dog," he murmured and caught her surprised glance before he stepped out and pulled the door closed.

Genuine love not only respects the individuality of the other but actually cultivates it, even at the risk of separation or loss. The ultimate goal of life remains the spiritual growth of the individual, the solitary journey to peaks that can be climbed only alone.

Ai dor! Era-me preciso enterrar magnificamente os meus amores. Eles lá iam, mar em fora, no espaço e no tempo, e eu ficava-me ali numa ponta de mesa, com os meus quarenta anos, tão vadios e tão vazios; ficava-me para os não ver nunca mais, porque ela poderia tornar e tornou, mas o eflúvio da manhã quem é que o pediu ao crepúsculo da tarde?

dis-aster is separation from the stars. Such separation is disaster indeed. When we are separated from the stars, the sea, each other, we are in danger of being separated from God.

It was different for him. Larry's mother was long dead, his brothers and sisters scattered, his father a

She wanted to say, no. She wanted to say, I have a son, there is a child, this cannot happen. Because you know that no one will ever love them like you do. You know that no one will look after them like you do. You know that it's an impossibility, it's unthinkable that you could be taken away, that you will have to leave them behind.

If you make a decision about who is good and who is not good at an early age; if you separate the "talented" from the "untalented"; and if you provide the "talented" with a superior experience, then you're going to end up giving a huge advantage to that small group of people born closest to the cutoff date.

She who was the heart And hinge of all our learnings and our loves: She left us destitute and, as we might, Trooping together.

No amount of success - whatever that means, quote-unquote success - no amount of success replaces the reality of being separated from my family for this long.

Love is timeless.... Death does not separate the lover from the beloved.

No order, no pattern, just chaos. Lots of little universes separated by invisible screens . . .

Students are not to read the Bible, jurors are not to hear it, prosecutors cannot quote from it, and teachers are not to display it.

Death demands its own designated punctuation mark. Maybe: ______ died/ It is a dividing line / everything on this side is different.

wisdom is like a bottomless pond. You throw stones in and they sink into darkness and dissolve. Her eyes looking back do not reflect anything. I think this to myself even though I love my daughter. She and I have shared the same body. There is a part of her mind that is a part of mine. But when she was born she sprang from me like a slippery fish, and has been swimming away ever since. All her life, I have watched her as though from another shore.

we were like two people standing apart on separate mountain peaks, recklessly leaning forward to throw stones at one another, unaware of the dangerous chasm that separated us.

And now at the airport, after shaking hands with everybody, waving good-bye, I think about all the different ways we leave people in this world. Cheerily waving good-bye to some at airports, knowing we'll never see each other again. Leaving others on the side of the road, hoping that we will. Finding my mother in my father's story and saying good-bye before before I have a chance to know her better.

And now at the airport, after shaking hands with everybody, waving good-bye, I think about all the different ways we leave people in this world. Cheerily waving good-bye to some at airports, knowing we'll never see each other again. Leaving others on the side of the road, hoping that we will. Finding my mother in my father's story and saying good-bye before I have a chance to know her better.

And now at the airport, after shaking hands with everybody, waving good-bye, I think about all the different ways we leave people in this world. Cheerily waving good-bye to some at airports, knowing we'll never see each other again. Leaving others on the side of the road, hoping that we will.

I think about our marriage. The weft of our seventeen years together was so easily torn apart. Our love was as ordinary as the identical welcome mats found in the suburbs we grew up in. The fact that our bodies, our thoughts, our hearts had once moved in rhythm with each other had only fooled us into thinking we were special.

And now at the airport, after shaking hands with everybody, waving good-bye, I think about all the different ways we leave people in this world. Cheerily waving good-bye to some at airports, knowing we'll never see each other again. Leaving others on the side of the road, hoping that we will.