Goodbye November Quotes

I thought I was stronger than a word, but I just discovered that having to say goodbye to you is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

How the hell am I supposed to say goodbye to her tonight, knowing I’ll never talk to her again?

I don’t say goodbye unless I think it’s final.

In November, some birds move away and some birds stay. The air is full of good-byes and well-wishes. The birds who are leaving look very serious. No silly spring chirping now. They have long journeys and must watch where they are going. The staying birds are serious, too, for cold times lie ahead. Hard times. All berries will be treasures.

I thought I was tougher than a word, he says. But I just discovered that having to say goodbye to you is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

In the sea, Corr’s clumsiness will disappear, his weight cradled by the saltwater. I don’t want to say good-bye. I blink to clear my vision and reach up. I pull off his halter. The ocean is his love and now, finally, he’ll have it. I back out of the surf. There’s a thin, long wail. Corr takes a labored step away from the November sea. And another. He is slow, and the sea sings to us both, but he returns to me.

I don’t want to say goodbye to you when we wake up.' His words carve a hole right in the center of my heart.

the old name absorbs into me—MANNAHATTA, "the place encircled by many swift tides and sparkling waters.

They disappeared in the swirling snow, lost in that mixed feeling of melancholy and relief that usually accompanies goodbyes.

Political democracy, as it exists and practically works in America, with all its threatening evils, supplies a training-school for making first-class men. It is life's gymnasium, not of good only, but of all. We try often, though we fall back often. A brave delight, fit for freedom's athletes, fills these arenas, and fully satisfies, out of the action in them, irrespective of success.

Omar Khayyam:     I sent my soul through the Invisible,       Some letter of that after-life to spell,     And by-and-by my soul return'd to me,       And answer'd, "I myself am Heaven and Hell.

The Gunner's Dream (From The Final Cut) Floating down through the clouds Memories come rushing up to meet me now. In the space between the heavens and in the corner of some foreign field I had a dream. I had a dream. Good-bye Max. Good-bye Ma. After the service when you're walking slowly to the car And the silver in her hair shines in the cold November air You hear the tolling bell And touch the silk in your lapel And as the tear drops rise to meet the comfort of the band You take her frail hand And hold on to the dream. A place to stay Enough to eat Somewhere old heroes shuffle safely down the street Where you can speak out loud About your doubts and fears And what's more no-one ever disappears You never hear their standard issue kicking in your door. You can relax on both sides of the tracks And maniacs don't blow holes in bandsmen by remote control And everyone has recourse to the law And no-one kills the children anymore. And no one kills the children anymore. Night after night Going round and round my brain His dream is driving me insane. In the corner of some foreign field The gunner sleeps tonight. What's done is done. We cannot just write off his final scene. Take heed of his dream.

Does Jesus Care? In a fit of despondency, the psalmist once bemoaned, “No one cares for my soul” (Ps. 142:4). But in the next verse he turned his gloom into a prayer, declaring to God, “You are my refuge.” The word care occurs eighty-two times in the Bible, which frequently reminds us that when “the days are weary, the long nights dreary,” our Savior cares. Frank Graeff wrote “Does Jesus Care?” in 1901, and it was set to music by the noted conductor and composer, Dr. J. Lincoln Hall (born November 4, 1866), who later called it his most inspired piece of music. The form of the hymn is unusual. Each stanza asks questions about God’s care for us in various situations, and the chorus resounds with the bolstering answer: “Oh yes, He cares, I know He cares!” NOVEMBER 4 Does Jesus care when my heart is pained Too deeply for mirth or song, As the burdens press, and the cares distress And the way grows weary and long? Does Jesus care when I’ve tried and failed To resist some temptation strong; When for my deep grief there is no relief, Though my tears flow all the night long? Does Jesus care when I’ve said “good-bye” To the dearest on earth to me, And my sad heart aches till it nearly breaks, Is it aught to Him? Does He see? Oh yes, He cares, I know He cares, His heart is touched with my grief; When the days are weary, the long nights dreary, I know my Savior cares. . . . casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you. – 1 Peter 5:7

I thought I was tougher than a word, But I just discovered that having to say goodbye to you is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. -pg. 125

Alexandra and Nicholas in the centre and little Alexei in front. 21st November 1914. Had tea at home with Mama [we] four, and Malama sweetheart was [here]. [Was] awfully glad to see him. And we said goodbye as he is going to the front soon. If Dmitri and Tatiana corresponded while he was at the front, the letters have not survived. A year and a half later, once he had returned to Tsarskoe Selo, Alexandra wrote of him to Tsar Nicholas: ‘He had matured, though still a lovely boy. I have to admit, he would make an excellent son-in-law. Why are foreign princes not like him?’ Had it not been for the Revolution, there is a good chance Malama and Tatiana could have married: Malama’s family were part of Russia’s old nobility and there were precedents because Nicholas’s sister Olga had married an army officer in 1916. Tatiana also had an admirer called Volodya, but there is no doubt Malama was her favourite from the many times she mentions him in her diaries and from the

James had never thought it was possible to feel so lonely in a room full of people he liked. “Jamie?” Ryan said suddenly. “You okay?” “Yeah,” James said, without looking at him. “I just have to go. I remembered something important Dad told me to do.” He felt Tristan’s gaze on him. After bidding everyone goodbyes, James made his way to the door. He wasn’t surprised when Tristan followed him. “Don’t tell him anything,” James said, putting on his jacket. “Please.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Tristan leaned against the wall and eyed him. “You know what?” he said mildly. “You want my opinion?” Did he have a choice? “Shoot.” “Are you really planning to suck it up and suffer in silence all your life, watching him get married and have kids with her? Really? That’s just sad. Walk away or tell him you want him. Worst-case scenario, your friendship becomes strained and dies sooner rather than later. You have nothing to lose.” Tristan sneered. “And don’t kid yourself. You’ll lose him anyway when you eventually get sick of watching him with someone else.” Cocking his head, Tristan said softly, “You already feel it, don’t you? The bitterness, the jealousy, the ugliness.” James swallowed and averted his eyes. He wanted to deny it but couldn’t. He didn’t like the person he was becoming: someone who constantly lied to hide his feelings, someone who put on a smile when he felt like punching people or curling up and crying like a baby. Someone who felt sick and bitter watching the person he loved be happy. Wasn’t love supposed to be selfless? He was better than that. Wasn’t he? Wasn’t he? James looked at Tristan. “Why are you helping me? Why are you so nice all of a sudden?” A faint smile touched Tristan’s face. “I’m not being nice. To be honest, I find it hilarious that you, of all people…” He looked over James’s shoulder, presumably at Zach, and his expression softened and warmed. “But I’m trying to be a better person. It’s still a work in progress, but it’s easier to be a better person when you’re happy.” He looked back at James. “Bitterness and jealousy are my old friends. Trust me, the longer you know them intimately, the uglier it gets. Cut your losses now.” James opened the door and left without saying a word. Outside, a cold gust of November wind blew into his face, biting at his skin and making his eyes water.

Fairytales teach us that love is beauty, happiness, and faith. Life teaches us that sometimes we can feel hurt, useless, and lost. Sometimes we lose the ones we love. Sometimes we just can't handle the pain. And sometimes we just have to say goodbye.

In order to leave out any doubt, I let my passport expire, without trying to extend it. I applied for an Affidavit in lieu of passport, valid for a trip out of the U.S. to Israel, dated November 30, 1949. Just as two years previously my family came to say `hello,' now they visited to say `goodbye.' Some were puzzled by my decision yet they found it interesting and idealistic, since I was going to labor in the vineyards of the newly established Jewish State. Maybe, some thought, they would have treated or approached me differently, had they known that it was only a temporary stay, a two-year visit. Of course, it made no difference any more. That stint was an interlude between life in Europe and my settling in Israel, where I remained for over seven years.

I just discovered that having to say goodbye to you is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

I thought I was tougher than a word, … But I just discovered that having to say goodbye to you is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.” -pg. 125

Goodbye, goodbye! There was so much to love, I could not love it all; I could not love it enough. — Louise Bogan, from “After the Persian,” The Blue Estuaries: Poems: 1923-1968. (Farrar, Straus and Giroux October 31, 1995) Originally published November 1st 1974.