Maggie Stiefvater Quotes

There's never a right time to say goodbye.

Goodbye, Room." I wave up at Skylight. "Say goodbye," I tell Ma. "Goodbye, Room." Ma says it but on mute. I look back one more time. It's like a crater, a hole where something happened. Then we go out the door.

On the eve of long voyages or an absence of many years, friends who are tenderly attached will seperate with the usual look, the usual pressure of the hand, planning one final interview for the morrow, while each well knows that it is but a poor feint to save the pain of uttering that one word, and the meeting will never be. Should possibilities be worse to bear than certainties?

The time was fast approaching when Earth, like all mothers, must say farewell to her children.

Goodbyes are on of the hardest things about life. One way or another people were always leaving... Always moving on.

Goodbyes are overrated.

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

I'm great at leaving. I am less talented at getting left, though I should be better, given how much it's happened.

Don't let the door hit you where the good Lord split you.

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

Ready to go but never to return.

Stations and airports are rehearsals for separations by death.

Alice: It's the only way to leave. "I don't love you anymore. Goodbye." Dan: Supposing you do still love them? Alice: You don't leave.

When she packed up to leave, she knew that she was saying goodbye to something important, which was not that bad, in a way, because it meant that at least you had said hello to it to begin with.

Thank God and Greyhound you're gone.

To the guests that must go, bid God's speed and brush away all traces of their steps.

Leaving San Francisco is like saying goodbye to an old sweetheart. You want to linger as long as possible.

Farewell's a bitter word to say.

Sadly, I part from you; Like a clam torn from its shell, I go, and autumn too.

I'll never see them again. I know that. And they know that. And knowing this, we say farewell.

She left for Juilliard the day after Labor Day. I drove her to the airport. She kissed me good-bye. She told me that she loved me more than life itself. Then she stepped through security. She never came back.

I drove off, with my friends watching me go, all of them grouped on Lissa's hood. As I pulled onto the road, I glanced into the rearview and saw them: they were waving, hands moving through the air, their voices loud, calling out after me. The square of that mirror was like a frame, holding this picture of them saying good-bye, pushing me forward, before shifting gently out of sight, inch by fluid inch, as I turned away.

There's nothing here to say good-bye to. There's no dancing girl. No mischievous smile. She's gone, off with her sisters, broken free, escaped. And if she were here now, she would say, "Go.

Look out your window, and I'll be gone. You're the reason I'm a-traveling on.

Good bye, proud world! I'm going home; Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine