Quotes About Separation

hi, puppy." she's not a puppy. She's a girl," Nancy's mother says. Nancy pats me and says, "Good puppy. Nice puppy." When he mother bends down to pull her away, she wraps both arms around my legs and wails. "No! My puppy!

I'm afraid that you're leaving me, so i'm leaving you first.

And now...here I was. I stood by my bedroom window, watching Dorrie and Tegan growing smaller and smaller. The moonlight made the snow look silver – all that snow – and just looking at it made me cold.

Stuart Weintraub was not only without Chloe, but also without sad Stuart eyes!

I can't believe you gave me a bag of dirt and then broke up with me!

When you die, there's that much less breath to the world, and across continents someone supposedly separate gasps for air. When Marie, Joseph, peter, Moxi, Oscar, when I weep for you, don't forget I weep as well for me.

The two condemned men kneeled at the water's edge, crying and pleading for mercy as the ships grew smaller and finally vanished over the horizon.

This was not a job designed to endear him to the other crew members, and the alguacil stood apart from the rest of the crew.

Individuality involves pain. Tear ONE sheet of paper into sections and you will hear the sound of ripping. Each time you tear a piece, the paper lets out a cry. This is the pain of separation, the necessary, but unpleasant, phase of the Ultimate Reality knowing Itself. In other words, the One becomes the Many. This is the separation for the chance of union.

In general, it is useful when working with chronic anxiety to look for split-off anger. On the journey toward reconnection with core expression and the life force, anxiety and anger are ultimately transformed into healthy self-expression, strength, and the capacity for separation/individuation.

I would have rather felt you round my throat, Crushing out life, than waving me farewell!

If death, said my father, reasoning with himself, is nothing but the separation of the soul from the body;--and if it is true that people can walk about and do their business without brains,--then certes the soul does not inhabit there.

Just because we can't be together doesn't mean I don't love you

It really kind of sucked to be close to someone for so long and then suddenly not be anything anymore.

En el amor de ella se había mezclado ira, una ira que se correspondía con la suya. Morder, engullir, irrumpir en el otro de una vez por todas, devorar, aprovecharse, ese completo barullo desesperado de seres que quieren convertirse en el otro, que quieren ser una sola cosa y no pueden, siempre obligados a separarse el uno del otro.

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.

Somewhere out there, you knew, wealthy people were barricaded in their fortresses, fed and warm, if not happy, but soon you stopped thinking of them. You stopped thinking about other people at all.

This was what would haunt Mrs. McCullough most: that Mirabelle hadn't cried out when Bebe had reached into the crib and lifted her up and taken her away. Despite everything—despite the homemade food and the toys and the late nights and the love, so much love, more love than Mrs. McCullough could have imagined possible—despite it all, she still had felt Bebe's arms were a safe place, a place she belonged.

It was a place you could take refuge, if you knew how to get in. And each time you left it, each time your child passed out of your sight,

It was a place you could take refuge, if you knew how to get in. And each time you left it, each time your child passed out of your sight, you feared you might never be able to return to that place again.

Evidence of his mother, out there, elsewhere, so worried about somebody else's children though she'd left her own behind. The irony of it leached into his veins.

Pearl, my darling," her mother said. "I'm so sorry. It's time to go." She took Mia's hand, and Pearl, uprooted, came free and followed her mother back to the car.

Found and lost and found again, lost in plain sight, pressed to his back, her feet clasped in his hands. What made something precious? Losing it and finding it.

she would grow up to be, and you saw them all simultaneously, like a 3-D image. It made your head spin. It was a place you could take refuge, if you knew how to get in. And each time you left it, each time your child passed out of your sight, you feared you might never be able to return to that place again.