Good-byes breed a sort of distaste for whomever you say good-bye to; this hurts, you feel, this must not happen again. – Elizabeth Bowen
The heart may think it knows better: the senses know that absence blots people out. We really have no absent friends. The friend becomes a traitor by breaking, however unwillingly or sadly, out of our own zone: a hard judgment is passed on him, for all the pleas of the heart. – Elizabeth Bowen
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