No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other's worth.
I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle and end.
Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.
It's sad, but sometimes moving on with the rest of your life, starts with goodbye.
That bitter word, which closed all earthly friendships and finished every feast of love farewell!
Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair.
Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires.
As the presence of those we love is as a double life, so absence, in its anxious longing and sense of vacancy, is as a foretaste of death.
The return makes one love the farewell.
When the end comes, dark and hungry I'll be alone, love When the end comes, black and starving I'll say good-bye, love.-from Golden Tongue: The Poems of Steven Slaughter
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