Quotes About Departure

Is where you're from the place you're leaving or where you have roots?

When do you think you're leaving? I asked. I don't know. Probably soon. Got what I came here for. Even though we didn't go back to your old house? That was only part of it, he said. Not the main thing. A few more big flakes of snow drifted down from the starlit sky. And what was the main thing? This, he said. Right here.

Leaving was easy. It was everything else that was so damned hard.

Times like this it did seem real I was leaving, and even more that my family, and this life, would go on without me. And again I felt that emptiness rise up, but pushed it away. Still, I lingered there, in the doorway, memorizing the noise. The moment. Tucking it away out of sight, to be remembered when I needed it most.

Just wait a second. We can't leave it like this. But this too, wasn't true. Leaving was easy. It was everything else that was so damned hard.

It [I'm leaving] wasn't really necessary to say, especially if you were already walking away. Almost redundant. And yet, there was a comfort in being no question, no room for doubt.

I would have thought this would make me feel better.. getting to be the one to leave and not the one left behind. But it didn't. Not at all.

I drove off, with my friends watching me go, all of them grouped on Lissa's hood. As I pulled onto the road, I glanced into the rearview and saw them: they were waving, hands moving through the air, their voices loud, calling out after me. The square of that mirror was like a frame, holding this picture of them saying good-bye, pushing me forward, before shifting gently out of sight, inch by fluid inch, as I turned away.

But this, too, wasn't true. Leaving was easy. It was everything else that was so dammed hard.

I would have thought this would make me feel better, for once getting to be the one to leave and not the one left behind. But it didn't. Not at all.

If this was my forever, I didn't want to spend another second of it here.

Someone who normally moved so slowly, this time, for once, was long gone.

This is how I disappear in pieces. This is how I leave while not moving from my seat. This is how I dance away. This is how I'm gone before you wake.

Maybe love stays. Maybe love can't. Maybe love shouldn't. Love arrives exactly when love is supposed to. And love leaves exactly when love must. When love arrives, say, 'Welcome. Make yourself comfortable.' If love leaves, ask her to leave the door open behind her. Turn off the music, listen to the quiet. Whisper, 'Thank you for stopping by.

See you guys later. I'm going to drop Huntsman off at the

What if my country is destroying itself? Could I leave? Should I? And if so, what time's the next train to Montreal? Well, maybe not Montreal.

Herzog abandoned this theme with characteristic abruptness

The forecast is we kiss goodbye and never hello all kisses are then parting kisses

Fuzzy Tally is no more.

Perhaps all of life is no more than a long preparation for the leaving of it.

being alone with him was like being in a room which someone had just violently left

Who does not know what it is like to go with a friend to a railway station and then to watch the train take them away? As you walk along the platform back into the city, the person who has just gone is often more there, more totally there, than when you embraced them before they climbed into the train. When we embrace to say goodbye, maybe we do it for this reason—to take into our arms what we want to keep when they've gone.

Goodbye, sir, & fare well. You're in the clear.

He rose, and he put down The Yellow Book.He staggered—and, terrible-eyed,He brushed past the palms on the staircaseAnd was helped to a hansom outside.