Miss You When Your Gone Quotes

You're my brother, I miss you when you're away, I hate you when you hurt me, I love you when you're just yourself, I'm your sister when you do stupid things ... ~ C.M.

Let me tell you about this leg, Miss Oldridge," he said. "This used to be a modest, well-behaved leg, quietly going about its business, troubling nobody. But ever since it was hurt, it has become tyrannical."

Her expression eased another degree, and amusement glinted in her eyes, like faint, distant stars in a midsummer night's sky.

Encouraged, he went on, "This limb is selfish, surly, and ungrateful. When English medical expertise declared the case hopeless, we took the leg to a Turkish healer. He plied it with exotic unguents and cleaned and dressed it several times a day. By this means he staved off the fatal and malodorous infection it should have suffered otherwise. Was the leg grateful? Did it go back to work like a proper leg? No, it did not."

Lips twitching, she made a sympathetic murmur.

"This limb, madam," he said, "demanded months of boring exercises before it would condescend to perform the simplest movements. Even now, after nearly three years of devoted care and maintenance, it will fly into a fit over damp weather. And this, may I remind you, is an English leg, not one of your delicate foreign varieties. ~ Loretta Chase

Remember with your heart. Go back, go back and go back. The skies of this world were always meant to have dragons. When they are not here, humans miss them. Some never think of them, of course. But some children, from the time they are small, they look up at the blue summer sky and watch for something that never comes. Because they know. Something that was supposed to be there faded and vanished. Something that we must bring back, you and I. ~ Robin Hobb

Slow down, and enjoy that stuff if it's possible. Kathy doesn't care what time I leave, only what time I clock out, and she knows sometimes I sleep here when I'm locked out, or have friends over. Everything's cool as long as I clock out on time."
She swallowed that big bite she'd rammed in, and said, "Okay. Jeez, I'm so hungry, this stuff is good."
Ketchup for your fries, miss? I can recommend it - it's my main source of vitamin C."
She smiled. "Sure. What does Kathy do if you clock out late?"
Well, a couple times I've fallen asleep and done it, and gotten off with a warning. Eventually, though, if I made a habit of it, I'd disappear in the middle of the night, and never be seen again, and the only clues the police would have would be a few orange hairs and some enormous shoe prints. But for a few weeks afterward, all over the country, the Quarter Pounders would taste just a little bit more like Lightsburg, Ohio. ~ John Barnes

Darling, no one would ever dream of performing an operation on a child without testing it first. And no one in a thousand years would take a child's daemon away altogether! All that happens is a little cut, and then everything's peaceful. Forever! You see, your daemon's a wonderful friend and com panion when you're young, but at the age we call puberty, the age you're coming to very soon, darling, daemons bring all sort of troublesome thoughts and feelings, and that's what lets Dust in. A quick little operation before that, and you're never troubled again. And your daemon stays with you, only...just not connected. Like a... like a wonderful pet, if you like. The best pet in the world!
Wouldn't you like that? (Marisa Coulter) ~ Philip Pullman

How often we neglect, ignore, overlook, or simply miss the presence of our loving God. We often look for Him in the great rolling thunder when, more often than not, He comes in gentle whispers . . . in the soft cooing of a baby, through the touch of a loved one's hand, in the warm embrace of a trusted friend, in the pitter-patter of a sudden summer shower on a tin roof, or with the cool touch of an evening breeze on an Autumn night. Through hundreds of ways, God whispers, "I love you and I am always with you." Don't miss Him or His presence as you go through this day. Open your eyes of faith and look for Him in the most simple of ways. The experience can be extraordinary and life-changing! ~ Ron Lambros

Do you always mix business and pleasure?" She flashed her most alluring smile.

"Miss Stockton, when you own an inn, your business is pleasure. ~ J.M. Maxim

I miss our Would You Rather conversations and your hilarious answers. I miss your laugh. I miss the way I feel when I make you laugh. Like I just won something really important. I miss just sitting with you in perfect, silent understanding. I miss the way you never judge anyone. It's such a rare find, Liv. And I miss watching how kind you are with everyone. I miss being able to call you and talk to you about random shit and important shit. I miss my best friend. I miss you. I love you. ~ Samantha Young

Your mockers will only celebrate with you when you have gone far beyound them. ~ Osunsakin Adewale

And I keep saying I miss who I was when I was with him .Why did it have to end ?Well maybe this person crossed your path to show that deep down ,this part of who you felt you were with him is in you ,always was,always will be and that maybe that person you were ,is the best version of yourself that you could be. ~ Amira -Fadil

recant, v.

I want to take back at least half of the "I love you"s, because I didn't mean them as much as the other ones. I want to take back the book of artsy photos I gave you, because you didn't get it and said it was hipster trash. I want to take back what I said about you being an emotional zombie. I want to take back the time I called you "honey" in front of your sister and you looked like I had just shown her pictures of us having sex. I want to take back the wineglass I broke when I was mad, because it was a nice wineglass and the argument would have ended anyway. I want to take back the time we had sex in a rent-a-car, not because I feel bad about the people who got in the car after us, but because it was massively uncomfortable. I want to take back the trust I had while you were away in Austin. I want to take back the time I said you were a genius, because I was being sarcastic and I should have just said you'd hurt my feelings. I want to take back the secrets I told you so I can decide now whether to tell them to you again. I want to take back the piece of me that lies in you, to see if I truly miss it. I want to take back at least half the "I love you"s, because it feels safer that way. ~ David Levithan

After all, when one approaches Middle Age ... "
"Middle Age? Has anyone ever boxed your ears Miss Thane?"
"No, never," said Miss Thane, looking blandly up at him.
"You have been undeservedly fortunate," said Sir Tristram grimly. ~ Georgette Heyer

She has been unkind to you, no doubt; because you see, she dislikes your cast of character, as Miss Scatcherd does mine; but how minutely you remember all she has done and said to you! What a singularly deep impression her injustice seems to have made on your heart! No ill-usage so brands its record on my feelings. Would you not be happier if you tried to forget her severity, together with the passionate emotions it excited? Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs. We are, and must be, one and all, burdened with faults in this world: but the time will soon come when, I trust, we shall put them off in putting off our corruptible bodies; when debasement and sin will fall from us with this cumbrous frame of flesh, and only the spark of the spirit will remain, - the impalpable principle of light and thought, pure as when it left the Creator to inspire the creature: whence it came it will return; perhaps again to be communicated to some being higher than man - perhaps to pass through gradations of glory, from the pale human soul to brighten to the seraph! ... ~ Charlotte Bronte

Life is only complete when your loved ones know you. When they know your true feelings, when they know who and how you love. Life is simple when your secret is gone. Gone is the pain that lurks in the stomach at work, the pain from avoiding questions, and at last the pain from hiding such a deep secret. ~ Robbie Rogers

Occasionally my mother called from California. My parents had hurried and difficult conversations. She asked after Buckley and Linsey and Holiday. She asked how the house was holded up and whether there was anything he needed to tell her.
'We still miss you,' he said in December 1977, when the leaves had all fallen and been blown or raked away but even still, with the ground waiting to recieve it, there had been no snow.
'I know that,' she said.
'What about teaching? I thought that was your plan,'
'It was,' she conceded. She was on the phone in the office of the winery. Things had slowed up after the lunch crowd, but five limos of old ladies, three sheets to the wind, were soon due in. She was silent and then she said something that no one, least of all my father, could have argued with. 'Plans change.'
~pgs 226; Changing plans ~ Alice Sebold

When you think about Laos and about not having enough food and those dirty and torn-up clothes, you don't want to think. Here it is a great country. You are comfortable. You have something to eat. But you don't speak the language. You depend on other people for welfare. If they don't give you money you can't eat, and you would die of hunger. What I miss in Laos is that free spirit, doing what you want to do. You own your own fields, your own rice, your own plants, your own fruit trees. I miss that feeling of freeness. I miss having something that really belongs to me. ~ Anne Fadiman

My Caroline,
If you're reading this endnote then I can assume you've suffered your way through the story, our story once again. I suppose having you relive our time together is the ultimate proof of my sadism, as if you of all people needed further proof.
At the end I find myself surprised by how easy it was to write this book about us. I found I missed you so much that a terrible vacuum had formed; all the words came and filled it and for a little while you were home with me again. I didn't want it to end but a story must have an end, I suppose.
I have no secrets to reveal on this final page. I loved you. At least I tried to. And I failed you. I failed you with great success. Forgive me if you can. I will not apologize anymore.
I'm done writing now. I may go into the garden and read until evening. It isn't quite the same without your head on my knee and your ill-informed criticisms of my reading material, but I shall carry on alone, page by page, until the end. And when evening comes and the sun is sitting on the edge of the earth, I will look out, searching for a break in the horizon as that father did once so many thousands of years ago…the father waiting for his prodigal child to return.
I hope you are happy. As for me, I…continue. If you ever miss me, miss… But some things are best left unwritten. Just know I have kept your room for you. I'll say no more. I know I sent you away. I know it was the right thing to do. But I also know that perhaps no ~ Tiffany Reisz

Miss Mapp moved towards the screen.

"What a delicious big screen," she said.

"Yes, but don't go behind it, Mapp," said Irene, "or you'll see my model undressing."

Miss Mapp retreated from it precipitately, as from a wasp's nest, and examined some of the studies on the wall, for it was more than probable from the unfinished picture on the easel that Adam lurked behind the delicious screen. Terrible though it all was, she was conscious of an unbridled curiosity to know who Adam was. It was dreadful to think that there could be any man in Tilling so depraved as to stand to be looked at with so little on...

Irene strolled round the walls with her.

"Studies of Lucy," she said.

"I see, dear," said Miss Mapp. "How clever! Legs and things! But when you have your bridge-party, won't you perhaps cover some of them up, or turn them to the wall? We should all be looking at your pictures instead of attending to our cards. And if you were thinking of asking the Padre, you know..."

They were approaching the corner of the room where the screen stood, when a movement there as if Adam had hit it with his elbow made Miss Mapp turn round. The screen fell flat on the ground and within a yard of her stood Mr. Hopkins, the proprietor of the fish-shop just up the street. Often and often had Miss Mapp had pleasant little conversations with him, with a view to bringing down the price of flounders. He had little bathing-drawer ~ E.F. Benson

Slow Dance:
Have you ever watched kids, On a merry-go-round? Or listened to the rain, Slapping on the ground? Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight? Or gazed at the sun into the fading night? You better slow down. Don't dance too fast. Time is short. The music won't last. Do you run through each day, On the fly? When you ask: How are you? Do you hear the reply? When the day is done, do you lie in your bed, With the next hundred chores, Running through your head? You'd better slow down, Don't dance too fast. Time is short, The music won't last. Ever told your child we'll do it tomorrow? And in your haste, Not see his sorrow? Ever lost touch, Let a good friendship die, Cause you never had time, To call and say Hi? You'd better slow down. Don't dance so fast. Time is short. The music won't last. When you run so fast to get somewhere, You miss half the fun of getting there. When you worry and hurry through your day, It is like an unopened gift thrown away. Life is not a race. Do take it slower. Hear the music, Before the song is over. ~ Timothy Ferriss

You have a great shift." I tell him. "I'll see you around. It's a good thing we're not friends, or else maybe I'd miss you. Or something more than friends-it's a good thing we weren't going out, or I'd be gutted right now. But, you know, we're not. Going out. Obviously. It's so obvious. I'm not sure why I didn't get the memo on that. Maybe it was all the phone sex, addling my stupid female brain. Or, hell, maybe it was all those hours we spent at the bakery, hanging out, or that time when I slept in your bed and cried on your lap on the bathroom floor. I just got confused about what we are. I didn't get the memo. ~ Robin York

The principle of art is to pause, not bypass. The principles of true art is not to portray, but to evoke. This requires a moment of pause
a contract with yourself through the object you look at or the page you read. In that moment of pause, I think life expands. And really the purpose of art
for me, of fiction
is to alert, to indicate to stop, to say: Make certain that when you rush through you will not miss the moment which you might have had, or might still have. That is the moment of finding something which you have not known about yourself, or your environment, about others and about life. ~ Jerzy Kosinski

And how old are you, Miss Beckett?"
"Seventeen."
"What!" There is no way she's seventeen. I inspect her face, studying it intently, but don't know what it is I hope to find. Laugh lines maybe?
She watches my face. "Is my age a problem for you?"
"Hell, yeah, seventeen is a problem." I throw my napkin on the table. All of this has been a waste. "Forget it all. This whole thing is off."
"I don't act seventeen. I'm very mature for my age."
"No way. You're not even old enough to be drinking that wine." I lean in and whisper so no one will overhear. "I'm almost twice your age."
"I don't mind. I have daddy issues." She breaks into a huge grin and I hear a girlish giggle. That's when I realize she's fucking with me and has the ability to lie with a straight face. I'll have to remember that for future reference.
I'm not amused. "I see I have a comedienne on my hands. ~ Georgia Cates

It is you who are unpoetical," replied the poet Syme. "If what you say of clerks is true, they can only be as prosaic as your poetry. The rare, strange thing is to hit the mark; the gross, obvious thing is to miss it. We feel it is epical when man with one wild arrow strikes a distant bird. Is it not also epical when man with one wild engine strikes a distant station? Chaos is dull; because in chaos the train might indeed go anywhere, to Baker Street or to Bagdad. But man is a magician, and his whole magic is in this, that he does say Victoria, and lo! it is Victoria. No, take your books of mere poetry and prose; let me read a time table, with tears of pride. Take your Byron, who commemorates the defeats of man; give me Bradshaw, who commemorates his victories. Give me Bradshaw, I say! ~ G.K. Chesterton

I don't know where to start. How to start. It's like trying to navigate a maze in the dark, and . . ." Then the cat sprawled weightily over her feet. And that was it, the start. "I miss home. Roarke had you bring the cat, because the cat's home. I never had anything, didn't want anything until that cat. I don't even know why I took him, exactly, but I made him mine."
She took a long, slow drink of wine. "I missed him. I miss Peabody and her smart mouth and steady ways. I miss Feeney and Mavis and my bullpen. Hell, it's so bad I even miss Summerset."
When Roarke made some sound, she turned narrowed eyes on him. "If you ever tell him I said that, I'll shave you bald in your sleep, dress you in frilly pink panties, and take a vid that I'll auction and sell for huge amounts of money."
"So noted," he said, and thought: There's Eve. There she is. ~ J.D. Robb

Do you miss him?'
I take a moment to consider the question, my fingers fiddling with the white pegs in the little tray on my lap. 'I think I miss the idea of him. I don't miss his rules or the yelling or the way he'd belittle us. I don't miss his drinking or the rages, but I miss having a dad, you know?'
'What about your mum?'
I smile sadly. 'We talk, but only occasionally. She left Dad when I was little, which I totally get. He isn't the easiest person to live with... ~ Jennifer Joyce

He began quietly, "You recall, of course, that I won the Smallwood spelling contest every year I was there?" "Yes, Mr. Weston," she replied evenly, eyes remaining on the portrait. "And you might also recall that your father declared my handwriting the best he'd ever had the privilege to read?" "Yes, Mr. Weston." He looked at her composed profile and felt admiration fill him. When she said no more, he slowly shook his head, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth. "Well done, Miss Smallwood." He started to turn away but paused to add, "He did admire you, you know. He just didn't know how to show it." She gave him an incredulous look. "Mr. Pugsworth?" "Yes," Henry said, then walked away, thinking, Him too. ~ Julie Klassen

Did A tell you your eyes remind me of blown glass? I can see your soul through those eyes, Amy. They get darker when you're trying to be sexy and shine when you smile. And when you think you're in trouble you blink double the amount that you usually do. And when your sad the corners of your eyes turn down. I miss your eyes. And I don't want the sad ones to be my last memory of you. ~ Simone Elkeles

And when your wife is not the same person you fell in love with eight years ago, where exactly does that leave you? Do you try to get to know who she has become, and hope for the best? Or do you keep deceiving yourself in the hope that she might wake up one morning and have gone back to the woman she used to be? ~ Jodi Picoult

I'm Free "

Don't grieve for me, for now I'm free.
I'm following the path God laid for me.
I took God's hand when I heard the call;

I turned my back and left it all.
I could not stay another day

To laugh, to love, to work or play.

Tasks left undone must stay that way,
I found that place at the close of day.
If my parting has left a void,

Then fill it with remembered joy.

A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss.
Ah, yes, these things, I too, will miss.
Be not burdened with times of sorrow,

I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow.
My life's been full, I savored much,

Good friends, good times, a loved one's touch.
Perhaps my time seemed all too brief;

don't lengthen it now with undue grief.
Lift up your heart and share with me,
God wanted me now, God set me free. ~ Harold S. Kushner

A tall, well-muscled blond man drew alongside Christian. He inclined his head to them. "Abbot," he said to Christian in greeting.
Christian seemed pleased to see him. "Falcon. It's been a long time."
"Aye. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to greet you yester eve when you arrived."
Christian offered him a lopsided grin. "'Tis well understood. I heard about your escapade with the butcher's daughter and your near miss with her father's cleaver."
Falcon laughed. "Lies all. 'Twas the tanner's daughter and her father's ax."
Christian joined his laughter. "One day, my friend, you will meet the one father who can run faster than you."
"'Tis why God gave us horses." He winked at Christian, then tilted his head so that he could see Adara. "'Tis a pleasure to meet you, Queen Adara. I am Lord Quentin of Adelsbury and my sword is ever at your disposal."
Christian gave him a meaningful stare. "And your sword had best stay sheathed, Falcon, until you're on the battlefield."
"Your warning is well taken into consideration, Abbot, along with your sword skill and horsemanship. Have no fear of me. Your wife is ever safe from my designs. But no woman is safe from my charm."
Adara couldn't help teasing the man who seemed of remarkable good spirit and cheer. "However some women might find themselves immune from it, my Lord Falcon."
"What, ho?" he said with a laugh. "Congratulations, Christian. You have found a woman as intelligent as she is ~ Kinley MacGregor

Half inebriated, he vaulted up the stairs to find them lolling in chairs in the hall outside Maria's door. Gabe clasped a bunch of violets in his hand while Jarret held a rolled-up piece of parchment in his.
"What are you two louts doing here in the middle of the night?" he growled.
"It's nearly dawn," Gabe said coolly. "Hardly the middle of the night. Not that you would have noticed, in your drunken state."
Scowling, Oliver took a step toward them. "It's still earlier than you, at least, every rise."
Gabe glanced at Jarret. "Clearly, the old boy doesn't remember what today is."
"I believe you're right," Jarret returned, a hint of condemnation in his tone.
Oliver glared at them both as he sifted through his soggy brain for what they menat. When it came to him, he groaned. St. Valentine's Day. That sobered him right up. "That doesn't explain why you're lurking outside Maria's door."
Jarret cast him a scathing glance as he got to his feet. "Why do you care? You ran off to town to find your entertainment. Seems to me that you're relinquishing the field."
"So you two intend to step in?" he snapped.
"Why not?" Gabe rose to glower at him. "Since your plan to thwart Gran isn't working, and it's looking as if we'll have to marry someone, we might as well have a go at Miss Butterfield. She's an heiress and a very nice girl, too, in case you hadn't noticed If you're stupid enough to throw her over for a bunch of whores and opera dancers, we' ~ Sabrina Jeffries

...We have a saying in Farsi. It translates 'your place was empty.' We say it when we miss somebody."
I sniffed.
"Your place was empty before. But this is your family. You belong here. ~ Adib Khorram

Rhine: It's okay that you miss her. She was the love of your life.
Linden: Not the only love. It feels wrong to think about her as often as I do.
Rhine: You should think about her everyday. You shouldn't try to look for her anywhere else, because you'll never find her. You'll see her walking away in a crowded street, and when you reach for her, she'll turn around and be somebody else. Just keep her here (on your heart), okay? It's the only place you'll always be able to find her. ~ Lauren DeStefano

Until the day when, your endurance gone, in this world for you without arms, you catch up in yours the first mangy cur you meet, carry it the time needed for it to love you and you it, then throw it away. ~ Samuel Beckett

There.' He kisses my foot and releases it. It was pretty pain free, actually. 'What are you grinning at?' He looks at me in amusement.

'Your frown line.'

'I don't have a frown line.' He's offended.

'You do.'

He crawls up the bed and lays himself over me. 'Miss O'Shea, are you saying I have wrinkles?'

My grin widens. 'No. It only pops up when you're concentrating, or if you're concerned.'

'It does?'

'It does. ~ Jodi Ellen Malpas

I don't want you to go." I sigh, "I know, but maybe this is what we need." "No, it's not what we need, but it's what we have. I'm going to ache for you every day you're gone. I'm going to wish you were here so I could snuggle into your side and remind you why you should love me." I pull her closer and rub the side of her arm. "Loving you was never the issue. It's keeping you when you're not mine to have." She looks at me as a tear falls. "I think I was always yours to have. I'm just hoping you'll see that soon. ~ Corinne Michaels

Authors often say that their novels are like their children, and you want your novel, just like your children, to reflect well on you. When it goes out into the world, you hope that it will make you proud. But like a parent, an author must learn that her novel has needs of its own, and they are not the same as the author's.
Yes, you want your son's behavior toward women to reflect a loving relationship with his mother. However, if a woman is compelled to think about that relationship whenever they're in bed together, something has gone very very wrong. ~ Howard Mittelmark