Quotes About Reunion

She'd envisioned her next meeting with him countless times, and every vision was the same: Alex would be somewhere—preferably at a bar surrounded by men—looking sexy, but uninterested. Troy would be there, too, looking tortured and desperate to win her back.

Then, together, they passed through the camp gate and marched up the road, toward wives and sweethearts and children and Mom and Dad and home.

And all the embezzled cents and dollars of the last time I saw you.

We would never be together in this life again.

And this last second or two of dreaming in which your face returns to me completely. Not even needing to be, being so alive again to me.

Tess's Uncle Donald winced when he entered the Kibbitz Room at Attman's Delicatessen. The pained expression

I'll find my way back to you, Brooke Sommerfield. As sure as the sun is gonna rise in the mornin', I'll find you," I whisper into the wind. - River

They brought along a young man named Andy who wants very much to see you." She steps aside to let him through. I tuck my hair back behind my ears. Meet his shining gaze and break into a smile. He is so tall.

Did we really want her back? Hmmm . . .

As I raced out of the office, I could hear Emily rapid-fire dialing four-digit extensions and all but screaming, 'She's on her way-- tell everyone.' It took me only three seconds to wind through the hallways and pass through the fashion department, but I had already heard panicked cries of 'Emily said she's on her way in' and 'Miranda's coming!' and a particularly blood curdling cry of 'She's baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

God willing, I will soon be seeing you, whether by way of Portugal or Castile

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,

the night before? He had been away four whole

Son, it's time to go home

By coincidence I ran into my kid brother, Tom, on the dock in Le Havre, France, in October 1945.

During my incarceration Mother visited me. She had in some way managed to leave the workhouse and was making an effort to establish a home for us. Her presence was like a bouquet of flowers; she looked so fresh and lovely that I felt ashamed of my unkempt appearance and my shaved iodined head. 'You must excuse his dirty face,' said the nurse. Mother laughed, and how well I remember her endearing words as she hugged and kissed me: 'With all thy dirt I love thee still.

I do come home at Christmas. We all do, or we all should. We all come home, or ought to come home, for a short holiday - the longer, the better - from the great boarding school where we are forever working at our arithmetical slates, to take, and give a rest.

The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again.

I do come home at Christmas. We all do, or we all should. We all come home, or ought to come home, for a short holiday - the longer, the better - from the great boarding-school, where we are forever working at our arithmetical slates, to take, and give a rest. As to going a visiting, where can we not go, if we will; where have we not been, when we would; starting our fancy away from our Christmas Tree!

The beautiful lady released her hold of Florence, and pressing her lips once more upon her face, withdrew hurriedly, and joined them. Florence remained standing in the same place: happy, sorry, joyful, and in tears, she knew not how, or how long, but all at once: when her new Mama came back, and took her in her arms again.

Book the Second—the Golden Thread I. Five Years Later II. A Sight III. A Disappointment IV.

Dear Little Dorrit, it is not my imprisonment only that will soon be over. This sacrifice of you must be ended. We must learn to part again, and to take our different ways so wide asunder. You have not forgotten what we said together, when you came back?

O dear good Joe, whom I was so ready to leave and so unthankful to, I see you again, with your muscular blacksmith's arm before your eyes, and your broad chest heaving, and your voice dying away. O dear good faithful tender Joe, I feel the loving tremble of your hand upon my arm, as solemnly this day as if it had been the rustle of an angel's wing!

Then they went up the steps of the neighbouring Saint George's Church, and went up to the altar, where Daniel Doyce was waiting in his paternal character. And there was Little Dorrit's old friend who had given her the Burial Register for a pillow; full of admiration that she should come back to them to be married, after all. And