Έχε γεια, φτωχέ μου, εύπιστε ανόητε! Θα πεις την αλήθεια και η αλήθεια θα σε ελευθερώσει. Αλλά μπορεί και όχι, εξαρτάται από την περίπτωση. Πήγαινε μόνος, αγαπητέ μου ηλίθιε- είναι ο καλύτερος τρόπος για να προχωρήσεις. Θα μου λείψουν τα όνειρά σου. Έχε γεια, έχε γεια. Τα ψάρια και οι επισκέπτες αρχίζουν να βρομάνε μετά από τρεις μέρες. Έχε γεια!

Come! Let us make that bargain. Think of me at my best, if circumstances should ever part us!

A Letter from a Muse to Her Poet: Dear sir, I was called away and couldn’t bring you, but now I feel haunted. I know that sometimes you felt I was a part of you and that losing me would leave a hole in your heart, but that’s not true. I liked to pretend I was the core of your talent, but it wasn’t me. Everything you do, the ideas you weave, the lines you write, the words you choose, it was always only you. Please forgive me. I’m sorry that I didn’t say goodbye.

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

The weird thing about saying good-bye is that it never gets easier.

Sometimes the hardest goodbyes are the ones never said, the ones that always just hang there in the back of the mind like a dark cloud. There's so much to say but no one to say it to because the person you want most to hear it is already gone. That's how he felt. Sorrow, regret, a wound so deep it didn't even bleed. Like a puncture wound, an ache that didn't heal but just hurt. He didn't know if he wanted it to heal. That'd be too much like a final goodbye.

I’d been prepared for the goodbyes—as prepared as anyone could be, I guess—but I wasn’t at all prepared for a hello.

He wasn't much cut out for serious conversations. And a goodbye is a serious conversation.

I suppose in the end the whole of life becomes an act of letting go. But what always hurts the most is not taking a moment to say goodbye.

Flynn -I'm glad you ruined me." Her voice stabs my heart, because I recognize that tone. I've heard it before. "Don't start with the good-byes