Give the gift of your absence to those who do not appreciate your presence.
Distance – the only thing the rich are willing for the poor to call theirs, and keep.
She went her unremembering way, She went and left in me The pang of all the partings gone, And partings yet to be.
Parting is worse than death; it is death of love!
The logs of wood which move down the river together Are driven apart by every wave. Such inevitable parting Should not be the cause of misery.
Here we part. The solitary sail will attempt a flight of a thousand miles, The flowing clouds are the dreams of a wandering son, The setting sun, the affection of an old friend. So you go, waving your hands.
Let us not be dainty of leave-taking, But shift away.
Abruptness is an eloquence in parting, when spinning out the time is but the weaving of new sorrow.
Absence is the death of love.
What! gone without a word? ay, so true love should do; it cannot speak, for truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it.