Hermann Hesse Quotes

Friends depart, and memory takes them To her caverns, pure and deep.

It is always sad to leave a place to which one knows one will never return.

Seems like we always spend the best part of our time just saying goodbye.

No magic. I do believe you might have taken it all with you when you went away.

Every picture paints a thousand words and that one said 'goodbye'

Because it is senior year I have begun to see things as potential absences. The things I love will become the things I'll miss.

The distance that the dead have gone Does not at first appear- Their coming back seems possible For many an ardent year.

Good-bye, my moonsong and my breath, my white nights and golden days, my fresh water and my fire. Good-bye, and may you find a better life, find comfort again and your breathless smile, and when your beloved face lights up once more at the Western sunrise, be sure what I felt for you was not in vain. Good-bye and have faith, my Tatiana.

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.

Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days That are no more, and shall no more return. Thou hast but taken up thy lamp and gone to bed; I stay a little longer, as one stays To cover up the embers that still burn.

Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.

Something that required the best of you has ended. You will miss it.

The characters I'm most emotionally involved with are like friends you leave behind when you move away. You don't see them regularly anymore, but you still love them and keep in touch.

Thank God I have the seeing eye, that is to say, as I lie in bed I can walk step by step on the fells and rough land seeing every stone and flower and patch of bog and cotton pass where my old legs will never take me again.

The punctuation of anniversaries is terrible, like the closing of doors, one after another between you and what you want to hold on to.

Nothing is so dear as what you're about to leave.

I left my rhythm back in Denver.

Must I thus leave thee, Paradise?-thus leave Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades?

here we were again , always saying good-bye

I am away from home and must always write home, even if any home of mine has long since floated away into eternity.

This is a long goodbye, yet not time enough. I have no aptitude for this. I cannot learn this. I would hold on, and hold on, until my hands clutch at emptiness.

when people go away, or when we leave the places we love, or something we treasure goes out of our life - I have always noticed that before it happens - this leaving, this parting - when we think about it beforehand we are overwhelmed with sadness at the loss to come. ... the most unbearable sense of loss, the worst homesickness of all, so I have found, is this loss and sickness we feel beforehand, before we ever leave home.

I felt that I was leaving part of myself behind, and that wherever I went afterwards I should feel the lack of it, and search for it hopelessly, as ghosts are said to do, frequenting the spots where they buried material treasures without which they cannot pay their way to the nether world.