Quotes About Distance

There is a great distance between encouragement and immodesty.

Unless you can muse in a crowd all day On the absent face that fixed you; Unless you can love, as the angels may, With the breadth of heaven betwixt you; Unless you can dream that his faith is fast, Through behoving and unbehoving; Unless you can die when the dream is past -- Oh, never call it loving!

Men could not part us with their worldly jars, Nor the seas change us, nor the tempests bend; Our hands would touch for all the mountain-bars,-- And, heaven being rolled between us at the end, We should but vow the faster for the stars.

You have to tell us too of your dear mother — Robert is so anxious about her always. How deeply and tenderly he loves her and all of you, never could have been more manifest than now when he is away from you and has to talk of you instead of to you.

Space is big, and even at ludicrous rates of speed, crossing chunks of it takes a long time.

It writhed brightly, a spectrum of raveling colors, and then vanished and jumped position as the star resolved into view. Some distance away.

He blinked, his expression the strangest blend of grief and hurt betrayal; Kit saw it with a clarity which made a mockery of the ten feet between them.

Space was right there, inches beyond my fingertips.

We were moving fast, but at least we were within lightspeed communication range that wasn't longer than a human lifetime.

He didn't look at Baines, even as Baines leaned close enough to him that Kit felt his breath hot on his skin.

She never called, but she was there always, just at the edge of his awareness. He knew her despair and her grief. She punished herself. He thought she must not understand how she punished him, as well.

All the days that go by only make me seem to be getting further and further away from the day I last saw Eddie, not nearer and nearer the day I shall see him again.

Look, let's see ourselves in the distance, then we shall think, how happy they are! We're young; this is spring; this is a wood. In some sort of way or other we love each other, and our lives are before us—God pity us! Do you hear the birds?

It seemed as close as yesterday, and as distant as the end of the world.

We sat in silence, both of us looking up at the stars. He was probably envisioning a machine headed for Pluto. I wished i was on that machine.

I learned a new phrase today while you were away." She turned in his arms and then placed her hand on his chest. Her gaze lowered, suddenly shy. "Mi sei mancato molto." (I missed you so much) Sometimes it was acceptable for comfort and need to collide. He leaned down and kissed her, a kiss to seal his promises, a kiss that meant they were going to miss their evening meal.

I dreamed of death the way previously I'd dreamed of the pain leaving me, and the way before that I'd dreamed of gardens and children and weekends away. Death was my elusive lover, treasured and longed for and jealously guarded, and always distant. Always out of reach.

I arrive home with pink flushed cheeks and glittering green-blue eyes. The hardest part is the his smell that lingers on my skin. He is here and yet he isn't here at all. It is only a trick of the mind; a terrible delusion that leaves me with pale, white arms grasping out into the shallow blunt, blackness for someone who is far away. Someone who leaves you feeling utterly and beautifully broken.

January seems like a year ago.

Sull'aeroplano ci sentiamo membri di un organismo gigantesco: tutto sotto di noi si fa piccolo, maneggevole e lezioso come un giocattolo, finché ogni cosa si scioglie in una distanza indistinta sotto di noi e la nostra casa diventa il cielo, che ci appare pieno di dettagli e di cose da osservare.

Put him in there and chain him up," he ordered curtly. "Yes, that chain, you fool - do you see any other chain in that cell? Peaceable Sherwood? I'm tired of hearing about Peaceable Sherwood! Turn him loose in the cell for the night. - Which one of you said 'Where'll he be by morning?' Where does he look like he's going to be by morning, I ask you - a hundred and fifty miles away?" I was, to be exact, only seven and a half miles away by morning...

But you cannot fly away from people who have flown away from you; you cannot fly into your own arms.

I said, I love you, you arrogant arse." She smiled. "I always have. You're my mate, Owen Breese MacLaren. The distance won't change that. It never has.

Are you okay?" he says, still looking at me, and I feel my smile slip, fade, and the silence that falls over us then is so total I can't hear anything, not the rush-hiss of my heart pounding in my chest, not the sounds all around us; insects, wind, and the distant clatter of others' lives in houses built close but not too close because when we look out our windows we all like to pretend that everything we see is ours. But Ryan is not mine.