Quotes About Absence

It does not take long to die, nor to kill. A life is present or absent, and it is an instant passed between those extremities.

because nothing means as much until it has vanished.

Em todas as ruas te encontro em todas as ruas te perco conheço tão bem o teu corpo sonhei tanto a tua figura que é de olhos fechados que eu ando a limitar a tua altura e bebo a água e sorvo o ar que te atravessou a cintura tanto tão perto tão real que o meu corpo se transfigura e toca o seu próprio elemento num corpo que já não é seu num rio que desapareceu onde um braço teu me procura Em todas as ruas te encontro em todas as ruas te perco

The door closed, and the room swelled around me like a bruise. When she was here, I could pretend it felt small because of her, but when she left the four wood walls seemed to press towards me, like lungs that had breathed in.

The room turned gray, then white. The bed felt cold without him, and too large. I heard no sounds, and the stillness frightened me. It is like a tomb. I rose and rubbed my limbs, slapped them awake, trying to ward off a rising hysteria. This is what it will be, every day, without him.

One morning, I woke to find Chiron gone. This was not unusual. He often rose before we did, to milk the goats or pick fruits for breakfast. I left the cave so that Achilles

The bed felt cold without him, and too large. I heard no sounds, and the stillness frightened me. It is like a tomb. I rose and rubbed my limbs, slapped them awake, trying to ward of a rising hysteria. This is what it will be, every day, without him. I felt a wild-eyed tightness in my chest, like a scream. Every day, without him.

And perhaps, it is the greatest grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone Do you think? Perhaps, Achilles admitted

A cry of Absence, Absence, in the heart

Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls; For, thus friends absent speak.

Hello. I want to speak to Mr. Jack Cunningham please. . . . Hello. Is this Mr. Cunningham's office? Mr. James Merivale speaking. . . . Out of town. . . . And when will he be back? . . . Hum." He strode back along the hall. "The damn scoundrel's out of town." "All the years I've known him," said the little lady in the round hat, "that has always been where he was.

En el caso de padres silenciosos, pasivos o ausentes, la pregunta queda sin respuesta. «¿Tengo lo que se requiere? Papá, ¿soy un hombre?» Su silencio es la respuesta: «No lo sé…

I figured you were missing me.

Homer Wells, listening to Big Dot Taft, felt like her voice – dulled. Wally was away, Candy was away, and the anatomy of a rabbit was, after Clara, no challenge; the migrants, whom he'd so eagerly anticipated, were just plain hard workers; life was just a job. He had grown up without noticing when? Was there nothing remarkable in the transition?

And how do I say 'I miss you'? he wondered - when I don't mean 'I want to come back!'?

There's no one around to answer all my questions now that Ben's gone. It's a stark fact that continually reasserts itself each time I wonder what I'm supposed to do now. That brown robe he wore might as well have been made of pure mystery; he clothed himself in it and then left nothing else behind on the Death Star. I

The air I breathe in a room empty of you is unhealthy.

Because, unfamiliar with the absence of fear and what that was like, I have not been able to identify its presence.

Because, unfamiliar with the absence of fear and what that was like, I had not been able to identify its presence.

imagine a world without people

I got up alone the next morning in the darkness, and kissed my children good-by as they lay asleep in their beds.... [F]or the first time there was brought home to me a tiny part of that vast human misery summed up under the term of war-time separations. During the next four years, I was destined to see my children only on rare and brief occasions; and it was a loss which no victories, no reparations, no acquisitions of power could ever make good.

In heaven all the interesting people are missing. FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE

Remember this rule," advises Kahneman: "Intuition cannot be trusted in the absence of stable regularities in the environment.

When D's cabin caught fire, D was out of the country. Half the town-Christians and drinkers alike-came out to fight the fire and loot the cabin. There were individual piles of loot, and fights over the piles. That's my pile. The hell it is, it's mine.