We'll meet again. We'll meet when years have passed, and years make such a difference, don't they?
I didn't meet my father until I was in the fourth grade.
"Alexander, were you looking for me?" "All my life."
It would be ten years before they saw each other again, and their meeting would be thick with birds.
You're my Red Reaper, and I've missed you terribly.
We stayed a long, long time, to see you, to meet you, to see you at last.
How delightful it is to see a friend after a length of absence! How delightful to chide him for that length of absence to which we owe such delight.
Assuredly, meeting after absence, is one of - ah, no! - it is life's most delicious feeling.
