Then she took my hand and touched it to the wound beside her eye. i caressed the half-inch scar. as i did so, the waves of her consciousness pulsed through my fingertips and into me - a delicate resonance of longing. probably someone should take this girl in his arms and hold her tight, i thought. probably someone other than me. someone qualified to give her something. "goodbye, mr. wind-up bird. see you again sometime.
There is someone i must say goodbye to. Oh, not you - we are sure to see each other again - but the lily bart you knew. I have kept her with me all this time, but now we are going to part, and i have brought her back to you - i am going to leave her here. When i go out presently she will not go with me. I shall like to think that she has stayed with you.
That’s why it was so impossible to tell him goodbye — because i was in love with him. too. i loved him, much more than i should, and yet, still nowhere near enough. i was in love with him, but it was not enough to change anything; it was only enough to hurt us both more. to hurt him worse than i ever had.
Sunsets are loved because they vanish. flowers are loved because they go. the dogs of the field and the cats of the kitchen are loved because soon they must depart. these are not the sole reasons, but at the heart of morning welcomes and afternoon laughters is the promise of farewell. in the gray muzzle of an old dog we see goodbye. in the tired face of an old friend we read long journeys beyond returns.
He's been out for a while," she said. "you ready to take a break?" hopper could exist in this living form or be transformed into a small statue, which helped avoid uncomfortable questions when people came by. only she could transform him though. "yeah. he keeps trying to eat my paints. and i don't want him to watch me kiss you goodbye.