Think about any attachments that are depleting your emotional reserves. Consider letting them go.
It's so hard to listen to these trains outside my window, here it comes again. And it's calling me, begging me, follow me down the track. And it moans so dark and low, baby ain't comin' back. . . It sounds like crying, it sounds like letting go. Breathing and lying, sinking and dying slow. And I watch from my window, touching the cold glass sky. As the train rolls down the track, I say goodbye.
People so seldom say I love you And then it's either too late or love goes. So when I tell you I love you, It doesn't mean I know you'll never go, Only that I wish you didn't have to.
The way that TV is set up is very helpful for when a show comes to an end because as an actor, you've got acting, but as a showrunner you still get to edit for three months and after that ends you get to do a sound mix. So, as a writer-performer in television, it's a very nurturing, gradual environment to say goodbye to a show.
The harder you fight to hold on to specific assumptions, the more likely there's gold in letting go of them.
When superstition is allowed to perform the task of old age in dulling the human temperament, we can say goodbye to all excellence in poetry, in painting, and in music.
Goodbye. I'm leaving because I'm bored.
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.
What happened to goodbye?
As fate would have it, Jay's status appears To be at an all-time high, perfect time to say goodbye When I come back like Jordan, wearing the 4-5.
One of the difficult things of so much travelling is to say goodbye.
With my employees, if something is wrong and we can figure it out, okay, otherwise goodbye. Your employees are part of your success, so you have to share that, but the guests and the atmosphere have to be happy first.
Blind hope. Blind hope is all we have. There's a Greek tragedy called Prometheus Bound; Prometheus is the [titan] that gave humans fire. He's chained to a rock and bemoaning his fate and saying, "I gave you everything. By giving you fire, I gave you blind hope. By giving you a little light that kept you warm at night, I let you believe that this was all going to be okay. " For me, that's what art has been. Music and books, it's an act of hope to make them, and it's an act of hope to listen to them. That hope will be dashed, you will say goodbye.
Now how about this, ladies and gentlemen? The Governor of Alaska, Sarah Palin, has announced she is stepping down. She will no longer be the Governor of Alaska. First thing, she woke up and went out on her porch and waved goodbye to Russia.
As Harry and Ron rounded the clump of trees behind which Harry had first heard the dragons roar, a witch leapt out from behind them. It was Rita Skeeter. She was wearing acid-green robes today; the Quick-Quotes Quill in her hand blended perfectly against them. "Congratulations, Harry!' she said beaming at him. "I wonder if you could give me a quick word? How you felt facing that dragon? How do you feel now about the fairness of the scoring?" "Yeah, you can have a word," said Harry savagely. "Goodbye!
This goodbye will only seem Like an eternal pain If I fail to merely miss you Until we meet again As we assuredly will I've made my mind up
The French have a phrase for it. The bastards have a phrase for everything and they are always right. To say goodbye is to die a little.
I know you want me back. It's time to face the facts. That I'm the one that's got away. Lord knows that it would take another place, another time, another world, another life. Thank God I found the good in goodbye.
It's hard to say goodbye to the streets. It's all how you do it. You can pass by and say, 'What's happening?' and keep it moving, but it's a certain element that'll never be able to roll with you once you get to this level, because that's the separation of it all.
Catherine Land liked the beginnings of things. The pure white possibility of the empty room, the first kiss, the first swipe at larceny. And endings, she liked endings, too. The drama of the smashing glass, the dead bird, the tearful goodbye, the last awful word which could never be unsaid or unremembered. It was the middles that gave her pause. This, for all its forward momentum, this was a middle. The beginnings were sweet, the endings usually bitter, but the middles were only the tightrope you walked between the one and the other. No more than that.