Friend Leaving School Quotes

Outside of my parents, it's my older sister, Ngum. She lives with me in Detroit and helps me with my day-to-day stuff. She's somebody I've always looked up to. When she was leaving high school and going to college, I wanted to follow in her footsteps. ~ Ndamukong Suh

The people like me, finally, after years and years of agitation, made deeply moving and eloquent speeches against the wrongness of your domination over us, and then finally, after the mutilated bodies of you, your wife, and your children were found in your beautiful and spacious bungalow at the edge of your rubber plantation - found by one of your many house servants (none of it was ever yours; it was never, ever yours) - you say to me, "Well, I wash my hands of all of you, I am leaving now," and you leave, and from afar you watch as we do to ourselves the very things you used to do to us. And you might feel that there was more to you than that, you might feel that you had understood the meaning of the Age of Enlightenment (though, as far as I can see, it had done you very little good); you loved knowledge, and wherever you went you made sure to build a school, a library (yes, and in both of these places you distorted or erased my history and glorified your own). But then again, perhaps as you observe the debacle in which I now exist, the utter ruin that I say is my life, perhaps you are remembering that you had always felt people like me cannot run things, people like me will never grasp the idea of Gross National Product, people like me will never be able to take command of the thing the most simpleminded among you can master, people like me will never understand the notion of rule by law, people like me cannot really think in abstractions, people like me cannot be objectiv ~ Jamiaca Kincaid

Oh, trust me Sydney Tar Ponds, you aren't the first Personification to be forgotten by somebody ordinary," Mearth sighed with a falsely-reassuring smile. Alecto stepped back from her, glaring hatefully. "Sydney Tar Ponds," Mearth added, "I've had so many ordinary people as friends in my life that by now I've forgotten all their names. At first it was difficult ... very sad ... to see them always leaving, dying, disappearing, ignoring, but after a while I realized that they weren't worth the trouble. I'd rather be in the company of other Personifications. At least they aren't always dropping dead like houseflies or sailing away to parts unknown. Nil sa saol seo ach ceo, i ni bheimid beo, ach seal beag gearr. Wouldn't you agree?"
"No," Alecto told her. "I think you're insane. ~ Rebecca McNutt

I snicker, but the idea is momentarily appealing. Part of me is scared of leaving school. Part of me wants to go desperately. Tension of opposites. ~ Mitch Albom

When I was first aware that I had been laid low by the disease, I felt a need, among other things, to register a strong protest against the word "depression." Depression, most people know, used to be termed "melancholia," a word which appears in English as the year 1303 and crops up more than once in Chaucer, who in his usage seemed to be aware of its pathological nuances. "Melancholia" would still appear to be a far more apt and evocative word for the blacker forms of the disorder, but it was usurped by a noun with a blank tonality and lacking any magisterial presence, used indifferently to describe an economic decline or a rut in the ground, a true wimp of a word for such a major illness.

It may be that the scientist generally held responsible for its currency in modern times, a Johns Hopkins Medical School faculty member justly venerated -- the Swiss-born psychiatrist Adolf Meyer -- had a tin ear for the finer rhythms of English and therefore was unaware of the semantic damage he had inflicted for such a dreadful and raging disease. Nonetheless, for over seventy-five years the word has slithered innocuously through the language like a slug, leaving little trace of its intrinsic malevolence and preventing, by its insipidity, a general awareness of the horrible intensity of the disease when out of control. ~ William Styron

My friend once told me
she liked this guy because of his hands
And I found it absurd that anyone
would develop feelings over one feature,
and not care about the rest

It wasn't until you used your hands
to cup the back of my neck the first time we kissed
and I could feel your firm grasp pull me closer,
and my insides exploded
and my head buzzed with bliss.

And the first night you slept over,
you fell asleep with your hand
laid over my stomach
and your fingers felt like a fire
that I didn't mind burning my skin.

The first time we got drunk,
was the first time you played with my hair,
and my god I was hooked,
I'd drink forever if it meant you'd never stop.

And in public you'd hold my hand,
and rub your thumb in little circles
that left me wanting you more,
no matter what you would never let me go,
I was glued to you,
and I honestly didn't mind

When we talked about breaking up,
you saw my lips quiver with fear,
and you brushed over my lips with your fingers
before pulling me into your lap
and you kissed me like never before.
With your hands on my hips
pulling me so close to you,
leaving no space in between us.
It was then I realized I never wanted you to go

Its now that,
I finally understand why hands
were the only feature that mattered. ~ Carol Shlyakhova

I slipped through every school I went to without leaving a trace. I was in no team; I was never a prefect. I was totally mediocre - well, I probably still am - but at places like Summer Fields and Eton, it's all about sport and doing your bit, and I always preferred to watch telly or read a book than run round a field. ~ Tom Parker Bowles

My best friends are still the ones I first attached myself to when I went to school because, all of a sudden, I was leaving the rather pampered and occasionally very annoying world of having three older sisters to go to a male-dominated world. ~ James Nesbitt

Have you ever found your heart's desire and then lost it? I had seen myself, a portrait of myself as a reader. My childhood: days home sick from school reading Nancy Drew, forbidden books read secretively late at night. Teenage years reading -trying to read- books I'd heard were important, Naked Lunch, and The Fountainhead, Ulysses and Women in Love ... It was as though I had dreamt the perfect lover, who vanished as I woke, leaving me pining and surly. ~ Audrey Niffenegger

Will pushed his hands through his damp hair. "Oh, yes," he said bitterly. "Perhaps in some other life, beyond this one, when we have passed beyond the river, or turned upon the Wheel, or whatever kind words you want to use to describe leaving this world, I shall find my friend again, my parabatai. But I have lost you now - now, when I need you more than I ever did! ~ Cassandra Clare

I feel like I might start crying and that I'm going to cry pee. ~ John Green

If I am frightened then I can hide it
If I am crying, I'll call it laughter
If I am haunted, I'll call it my imaginary friend
If I am bleeding I'll call it wine
But if you leave me then I am broken
And if I'm broken then only death remains ~ Elvis Costello

He says he'd rather be dead than leave me. According to him, we're family. I guess that makes me the psycho uncle no one wants to talk to. And he's the kid with only imaginary friends for company. 'Normal' Rockwell, here we come. (Jared) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

To make a friend, forgiveness is required which burns up all things, leaving only beauty; but to destroy friendship is easy. ~ Hazrat Inayat Khan

Write about "leaving." Approach it any way you want. Write about your divorce, leaving the house this morning, or a friend dying. ~ Natalie Goldberg

Avery worries about her, too, so Lissa's in good hands. Avery's pretty amazing."
I gave him a scathing look. "Amazing? Do you like her or something?" I hadn't forgotten Avery's comment about leaving the door unlocked for him.
"Of course I like her. She's a great person."
"No, I mean like. Not like."
"Oh, I see," he said, rolling his eyes. "We're dealing with elementary school definitions of 'like'. ~ Richelle Mead

I am very sure that my children thrive on structure and need boundaries. I know my children need to know what time they are going to bed or how many more minutes until they are leaving for school, and so I have imposed a structure that allows them to know where they are all day long, every day in life. ~ Jessica Seinfeld

You must never watch a leaving friend out of sight, else you'll not see them return. ~ Jess Kidd

A wave formed, swelling around Ariel's body. It lifted her up higher and higher- or maybe she herself was growing: it was hard to tell. She held the trident aloft. Storm clouds raced to her from all directions like a lost school of cichlid babies flicking to their father's mouth for protection. Lightning coursed through the sky and danced between the trident's tines.
Ariel sang a song of rage.
Notes rose and fell discordantly, her voice screeching at times like a banshee from the far north.
She sang, and the wind sang with her. It whipped her hair out of its braids and pulled tresses into tentacles that billowed around her head. She sang of the unfairness of Eric's fate and her own, of her father's torture as a polyp, even of Scuttle's mortal life, slowly but visibly slipping away.
Mostly she sang about Ursula.
She sang about everyone whose lives had been touched and destroyed by evil like coral being killed and bleached, like dead spots in the ocean from algae blooms, like scale rot. She sang about what she would do to anyone who threatened those she loved and protected.
And then, with her final note, she made a quick thrust as if to throw the trident toward the boats in the bay, pulling it back at the last moment.
A clap louder than thunder echoed across the ocean. A wave even larger than the one she rode roared up from the depths of the open sea. It smashed through and around her, leaving her hair and body white with foam. She grinned fie ~ Liz Braswell

You're annoying. You always act as if everything is so easy. 'Well, Oliver, it seems to me that your choice is either to quit or continue,'" he mimicked, remembering his father's advice when he'd been on the verge of leaving school. The other man only smiled. "I'm your father. It's my job to annoy you. ~ Courtney Milan

Your pancreas, however, because of Metabolism B, releases excess insulin to deal with the bagel's glucose rush. Once this insulin helps to refill the glycogen stores in your muscle and liver, the excess keys will open excess fat cells. In an effort to feed these fat cells, you will dip into your normal blood sugar, leaving too little glucose left in the bloodstream to keep up your energy and sense of satiation. Your blood glucose has now dipped below the normal range. And so, after eating exactly the same meal, you will end up "fatter" than your friend and with lower blood glucose than she has! ~ Diane Kress

This is a plot: I hope he will keep quiet while he looks at them. I dive under the table and push the chest against his patent leather shoes, I put an armload of post cards and photos on his lap: Spain and Spanish Morocco.

But I see by his laughing, open look that I have been singularly mistaken in hoping to reduce him to silence. He glances over a view of San Sebastian from Monte Igueldo, sets it cautiously on the table and remains silent for an instant. Then he sighs:

'Ah, Monsieur, you're lucky ... if what they say is true-travel is the best school. Is that your opinion, Monsieur?'

I make a vague gesture. Luckily he has not finished.

'It must be such an upheaval. If I were ever to go on a trip, I think I should make written notes of the slightest traits of my character before leaving, so that when I returned I would be able to compare what I was and what I had become. I've read that there are travellers who have changed physically and morally to such an extent that even their closest relatives did not recognize them when they came back. ~ Jean-Paul Sartre

When I was 14, I used to have a calendar on my wall, crossing the days off until I was 15, because the school leaving age was 15. Then three months before I turned 15 they changed the leaving age to 16. ~ Mark E. Smith

Where are you? And why did you go? I guess I'll never know this. Was it because I made you mad? Because I tried to help? Because I didn't answer when you threw rocks at my window? What if I had answered? What would you have said to me? Would I have been able to talk you into staying or talk you out of doing what you did? Or would that have happened anyway? Do you know my life is forever changed now? I used to think that was true because you came into it and, in doing that, forced me out of my room and into the world. Even when we weren't wandering, even from the floor of your closet, you showed the world to me. I didn't know that my life forever changing would be because you loved me and then left, in such a final way. So I guess there was no Great Manifesto after all, even though you made me believe there was. I guess there was only a school project. I'll never forgive you for leaving me. I just wish you could forgive me. You saved my life. And, finally, I simply write: Why couldn't I save yours? ~ Jennifer Niven

With the help of a friend I got father into a wagon, when the crowd had gone. I held his head in my lap during the ride home. I believed he was mortally wounded. He had been stabbed down through the kidneys, leaving an ugly wound. ~ Buffalo Bill

Rosie,

I'm returning to Boston tomorrow but before I go I wanted to write this letter to you. All the thoughts and feelings that have been bubbling up inside me are finally overflowing from this pen and I'm leaving this letter for you so that you don't feel that I'm putting you under any great pressure. I understand that you will need to take your time trying to decide on what I am about to say.
I no what's going on, Rosie. You're my best friend and I can see the sadness in your eyes. I no that Greg isn't away working for the weekend. You never could lie to me; you were always terrible at it. Your eyes betray you time and time again. Don't pretend that everything is perfect because I see it isn't. I see that Greg is a selfish man who has absolutely no idea just how lucky he is and it makes me sick.
He is the luckiest man in the world to have you, Rosie, but he doesn't deserve you and you deserve far better. You deserve someone who loves you with every single beat of his heart, someone who thinks about you constantly, someone who spends every minute of every day just wondering what you're doing, where you are, who you're with and if you're OK. You need someone who can help you reach your dreams and who can protect you from your fears. You need someone who will treat you with respect, love every part of you, especially your flaws. You should be with someone who can make you happy, really happy, dancing-on-air happy. Someone who should have taken the chance ~ Cecelia Ahern

On the fifth day I knew Kaidan would have made it home. I held my breath and called him. I listened to every charming word of his voice mail, then hung up. That evening I sat on my bed and called again. This time I left a message.

"Hi, Kai, um, Kaidan. It's me. Anna. I'm just trying to see if you made it home safely. I'm sure you probably did. Just checking. You can call me anytime. If you want. Anyway. Okay, bye."

I hung up and buried my shamed face into a pillow. Now I was leaving messages after he'd made it clear he wanted zero to do with me? Next thing I knew I'd be frequenting his shows to give him psycho stares from the back, and then doing late-night drive-bys to see what girl he was bringing home. The thought of him with another girl made me writhe in discomfort and curl up in the fetal position.
Day six was our first day of back-to-school shopping. We still had a month before school began, but the state issued a tax-free day, so stores were having big sales. I eyed all the teensy skirts and fashionable shirts dangling on mannequins. I tried to imagine Kaidan's reaction if I came dressed like that to one of his shows, some guy other than Jay on my arm. Ugly stalker thoughts. I was full of them.
Two weeks passed, and I was still tripping over chairs to grab the phone every time it rang, like now.
This time it was Jay. ~ Wendy Higgins

In the 1930s, Americans hopped trains. In the 1950s, beat poets wrote about road trips. In the 1960s, we hitched rides. Today, however, it seems like the whole "coming of age" adventure has been abridged from a young person's life experience, leaving no gap, no bridge, no moment of real freedom in between school and career. I ~ Ken Ilgunas

Days after setting off the bomb, the duo murdered a young MIT police officer during their attempted escape, and two years earlier Tamerlan and another Muslim immigrant slit the throats of three Jewish men on the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 attack - which I believe was also the work of immigrants. CNN headline after the attack: "Boston Bombing Shouldn't Derail Immigration Reform."32 Leaving aside the wanton slaughter, Dzhokhar and Tamerlan were tremendous assets to America. They were on welfare and getting mostly Fs in school. Good work, U.S. immigration service! ~ Ann Coulter

The open road. Seemingly my only friend for years upon end since leaving war. The road embraced me, let me breathe, and more importantly, did not judge me. ~ M.B. Dallocchio

I always felt strongly connected to the region where I was born. But after leaving school, the only clear thought I had about my life was to leave this provincial area and go to places where real life was happening. ~ Volker Bertelmann

She winced to remember herself at seventeen, in high school, how, after the first illuminating weekend, everything spoke sex to her. The way the light pulsed the leaves of the ragweed in the ditches, the way clothes teased her skin as she moved. The words leaving a person's mouth, how they were tongued, rolled, lipped before they emerged. It was as if the man had suddenly reached into her and pulled out an earthquake and set it loose on her skin. She walked the last weeks of high school wanting to eat every one of these delicious boys. If she had only been allowed, she would have swallowed them whole. She smiled at them hugely; they scurried away. She'd laughed, but felt it was a shame. ~ Lauren Groff

In 2009, School Administrator magazine asked Hall to relate her "biggest blooper." It was, she said, "when a staff member planned a team-building exercise at our senior team retreat to play miniature golf at day's end, only to find out it was actually 18 holes of regular night golf. Most of us were not golfers and were not happy with the surprise." Her blunder, in other words, was leaving the details in the hands of an underling. ~ Anonymous

The top priority is leaving no child behind. We want accountability in the system, and we want schools to recognize they have a responsibility to teach students. ~ Andrew Card

Maybe I really can see
The face of God.
Maybe it's there
When I sit with my
Patched-together family
For pancake breakfast.
Maybe it's in the power
Of the sea,
Or in the driftwood
That gets hurled about
By storms.
Maybe it's in the words
Of an ice-cream man
Or the joyful leaps
Of a dolphin.
It might even be in the pain
Of leaving my new best friend,
Or maybe
It's especially in that.
Maybe all these things
Show me the face of God,
Or maybe they just show me
A bit of light
Or love
Or happiness.
And maybe that's exactly
The same thing. ~ Shari Green

Were I to deduce any system from my feelings on leaving Eton, it might be called The Theory of Permanent Adolescence. It is the theory that the experiences undergone by boys at the great public schools, their glories and disappointments, are so intense as to dominate their lives and to arrest their development. From these it results that the greater part of the ruling class remains adolescent, school-minded, self-conscious, cowardly, sentimental, and in the last analysis homosexual. ~ Cyril Connolly

Of Woman and Chocolate

"Chocolate shares both the bitter and the sweet.

Chocolate melts away all cares, coating the heart while smothering every last ache.

Chocolate brings a smile to the lips on contact, leaving a dark kiss behind.

Chocolate is amiable, complimenting any pairing; berries, peanut butter, pretzels, mint, pastries, drinks...everything goes with chocolate.

The very thought of chocolate awakens taste buds, sparking memories of candy-coated happiness.

Chocolate will go nuts with you, no questions asked.

Chocolate craves your lips, melts at your touch, and savors the moment.

Chocolate is that dark and beautiful knight who charges in on his gallant steed ready to slay dragons when needed.

Chocolate never disappoints; it leaves its lover wanting more.

Chocolate is the ultimate satisfaction, synonymous with perfection.

Chocolate is rich, smooth pleasure.

Chocolate has finesse - the charm to seduce and indulge at any time, day or night.

Chocolate is a true friend, a trusted confidant, and faithful lover.

Chocolate warms and comforts and sympathizes.

Chocolate holds power over depression, victory over disappointment.

Chocolate savvies the needs of a woman and owns her.

Simply put, chocolate is paradise. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

I need energy every day. Whether I'm leaving home and going to practice or getting in the car with my two kids to take my son to school - I need all the energy I can get. ~ Chris Paul

He walked me to the door, and we stood on the top step. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he kissed me on the nose and said, "I'm glad I came back." God, he was sweet.
"I'm glad you did, too," I replied. "But…" I paused for a moment, gathering courage. "Did you have something you wanted to say?"
It was forward, yes--gutsy. But I wasn't going to let this moment pass. I didn't have many more moments with him, after all; soon I'd be gone to Chicago. Sitting in coffee shops at eleven at night, if I wanted. Working. Eventually going back to school. I'd be danged if I was going to miss what he'd started to say a few minutes earlier, before my mom and her cashmere robe showed up and spoiled everything.
Marlboro Man looked up at me and smiled, apparently pleased that I'd shown such assertiveness. An outgoing middle child all my life, with him I'd become quiet, shy--an unrecognizable version of myself. He'd captured my heart so unexpectedly, so completely, I'd been rendered utterly incapable of speaking. He had this uncanny way of sucking the words right out of me and leaving nothing but pure, unadulterated passion in their place.
He grabbed me even more tightly. "Well, first of all," he began, "I really…I really like you." He looked into my eyes in a seeming effort to transmit the true meaning of each word straight into my psyche. All muscle tone disappeared from my body.
Marlboro Man was so willing to put himself out there, so unafraid to put forth his true ~ Ree Drummond

Both of these students- both high school seniors both old enough to vote in the upcoming election- thought 'Al' Qaeda was a person. At that time the United States had been at war for five and a half years and here were two students two young adults leaving the educational system who had never heard of al Qaeda. Both by the way had passed the multiple-choice reading section of the state's high school exit exam. ~ Kelly Gallagher

She hit him in the best way, like a rainstorm after five years of drought, healing the parched earth with a gentle touch; and in the worst way,like an unexpected earthquake,leaving dust and debris in her wake. She was, in equal parts, a gift and a natural disaster. Her name was Juniper Jones. ~ Daven McQueen

A lot of girls annoy me who go to university - one girl told me she was going to Oxford because it was something to do between leaving school and getting married. And I've got to pay for that being an income tax payer. ~ Jeffrey Bernard

Sometimes," she told me, "a girl will give a guy a blow job at the end of the night because she doesn't want to have sex with him and he expects to be satisfied. So if I want him to leave and I don't want anything to happen . . ." She trailed off, leaving me to imagine the rest.

There was so much to unpack in that short statement: why a young man should expect to be sexually satisfied; why a girl not only isn't outraged, but considers it her obligation to comply; why she doesn't think a blow job constitutes "anything happening"; the pressure young women face in any personal relationship to put others' needs before their own; the potential justification of assault with a chaser of self-blame. "It goes back to girls feeling guilty," Anna said. "If you go to a guy's room and are hooking up with him, you feel bad leaving him without pleasing him in some way. But, you know, it's unfair. I don't think he feels badly for you."

In their research on high school girls and oral sex, April Burns, a professor of psychology at City University of New York, and her colleagues found that girls thought of fellatio kind of like homework: a chore to get done, a skill to master, one on which they expected to be evaluated, possibly publicly. As with schoolwork, they worried about failing or performing poorly - earning the equivalent of low marks. Although they took satisfaction in a task well done, the pleasure they described was never physical, never located in their own b ~ Peggy Orenstein

Funnily enough, when I was leaving school and they asked you what you were going to do, and I just liked acting, that's never what I would say. I would always say I would go into business, even though I didn't really know what was meant by that. ~ Kylie Minogue

By definition, half the people leaving the courtroom are unhappy. Any good judge can make more than half the people unhappy. The job is not to make people like you or make people think you're their friend. ~ Steven Pacey

Reading Chip's college orientation materials, Alfred had been struck by the sentence New England winters can be very cold. The curtains he'd bought at Sears were of a plasticized brown-and-pink fabric with a backing of foam rubber. They were heavy and bulky and stiff. "You'll appreciate these on a cold night," he told Chip. "You'll be surprised how much they cut down drafts." But Chip's freshman roommate was a prep-school product named Roan McCorkle who would soon be leaving thumbprints, in what appeared to be Vaseline, on the fifth-grade photo of Denise. Roan laughed at the curtains and Chip laughed, too. He put them back in the box and stowed the box in the basement of the dorm and let it gather mold there for the next four years. He had nothing against the curtains personally. They were simply curtains and they wanted no more than what any curtains wanted - to hang well, to exclude light to the best of their ability, to be neither too small nor too large for the window that it was their task in life to cover; to be pulled this way in the evening and that way in the morning; to stir in the breezes that came before rain on a summer night; to be much used and little noticed. There were numberless hospitals and retirement homes and budget motels, not just in the Midwest but in the East as well, where these particularly brown rubber-backed curtains could have had a long and useful life. It wasn't their fault that they didn't belong in a dorm room. They'd betrayed no urge to ris ~ Jonathan Franzen

Mr. Haverstrom closes the door, leaving Patrick and me alone in the hallway. Pat smiles slickly, leaning in toward me. I step back until I press against the wall. It's uncomfortable - but not threatening. Mostly because in addition to racquetball I've practiced aikido for years. So if Patrick tries anything funny, he's in for a very painful surprise.

"Let's be honest, Sarah: you know and I know the last thing you want to do is give a presentation in front of hundreds of people - your colleagues."

My heart tries to crawl into my throat.

"So, how about this? You do the research portion, slides and such that I don't really have time for, and I'll take care of the presentation, giving you half the credit of course."

Of course. I've heard this song before - in school "group projects" where I, the quiet girl, did all the work, but the smoothest, loudest talker took all the glory.

"I'll get Haverstrom to agree on Saturday - I'm like a son to him," Pat explains before leaning close enough that I can smell the garlic on his breath. "Let Big Pat take care of it. What do you say?"

I say there's a special place in hell for people who refer to themselves in the third person.

But before I can respond, Willard's firm, sure voice travels down the hall.

"I think you should back off, Nolan. Sarah's not just 'up for it,' she'll be fantastic at it."

Pat waves his hand. "Quiet, midge - the adults ar ~ Emma Chase

Every time we make the decision to love someone, we open ourselves to great suffering, because those we most love cause us not only great joy but also great pain. The greatest pain comes from leaving. When the child leaves home, when the husband or wife leaves for a long period of time or for good, when the beloved friend departs to another country or dies ... the pain of the leaving can tear us apart.
Still, if we want to avoid the suffering of leaving, we will never experience the joy of loving. And love is stronger than fear, life stronger than death, hope stronger than despair. We have to trust that the risk of loving is always worth taking. ~ Henri J.M. Nouwen

It disturbs me when Obama says in the State of the Union address that he wants to make dropping out of school at 18 illegal, because people learn differently and before there are forms of learning for every type of person in the world, we shouldn't be condemned for leaving. ~ Ezra Miller