Richelle Mead Quotes

As the presence of those we love is as a double life, so absence, in its anxious longing and sense of vacancy, is as a foretaste of death.

I’ve lost so many people. Some I left on purpose and never looked back. Some were taken from me, and I never said good-bye.

Goodbye, my love, my life. Goodbye, goodbye.

Farewell's a bitter word to say.

I think living with the absence of someone we love is like living in front of a mountain from which a person - a speck in the distance, on some distance ridge - is perpetually waving.

It were a grief so brief to part with thee. Farewell.

I say good-bye to the part of myself that misses him so much.

Farewell is said by the living, in life, every day. It is said with love and friendship, with the affirmation that the memories are lasting if the flesh is not.

There is only one word of tenderness we could say, which we have not said oftentimes before ; and there is no consolation in it. The happy never say, and never hear said, farewell.

Grief is only the memory of widowed affection. The more intense the delight in the presence of the object, the more poignant must be the impression of the absence.

Parting is all we know of heaven, and all we need of hell.

They who go Feel not the pain of parting; it is they Who stay behind that suffer.

Anyone with a heart, with a family, has experienced loss. No one escapes unscathed. Every story of separation is different, but I think we all understand that basic, wrenching emotion that comes from saying goodbye, not knowing if we'll see that person again - or perhaps knowing that we won't.

A friend who dies, it's something of you who dies.

I can't bear it that Douglas isn't still here.

There are moments when the grief comes bubbling up. The first time I saw Chris's chair empty, that was really hard. And it was hard when I started folding up some of his sweaters that I so imagine him wearing.

Saying goodbye is very emotional.

Saying goodbye to the people you love isn't easy

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.

Those that he loved so long and sees no more, Loved and still loves,-not dead, but gone before,- He gathers round him.

She glances back before stepping into the alley, and she catches her grandfather looking at her the way he does sometimes--as if she's already gone, as if he's practicing sorrow.

Yes, I will go. I would rather grieve over your absence than over you.

It is never good dwelling on good-byes ... it is not the being together that it prolongs, it is the parting.

To those who are here, those who are gone, and those who are lost.

Is not absence death to those who love?