goodbye

History never really says goodbye. History says, 'See you later.'

It's hard to say how certain stories just punch us in the heart and the brain at the same time at the end. I suppose that's what we're all looking for. But each story has its own valence, its own way of saying goodbye to you.

It's always difficult to say goodbye, especially when one has spent a long time - literally years, in the case of a series - inside a character or two, suffering and celebrating with them.

Saying goodbye doesn't mean anything. It's the time we spent together that matters, not how we left it.

I remember saying goodbye to my father the night he left to join the Navy. He didn't have to. He was older than other servicemen and had a family to support but he wanted to be a part of the fight against fascism, not just make movies about it. I admired this about him.

Anyone with a heart, with a family, has experienced loss. No one escapes unscathed. Every story of separation is different, but I think we all understand that basic, wrenching emotion that comes from saying goodbye, not knowing if we'll see that person again - or perhaps knowing that we won't.

To play a cop's wife - there's so much in that world, the wives or partners of anyone who is a first responder - it's not an easy job. It's not an easy way to live, to say goodbye to someone in the morning and not know what's going to happen throughout the day.

My dad died when I was 23. His death was sudden and shocking - the result of a car crash - and I never got to say goodbye.

The ideal death, I think, is what was the ideal Victorian death, you know, with your grandchildren around you, a bit of sobbing. And you say goodbye to your loved ones, making certain that one of them has been left behind to look after the shop.

A man never knows how to say goodbye a woman never knows when to say it.

I have a musical called Goodbye and Good Luck, based on a Grace Paley short story. I also have King Island Christmas, and there are 20 different productions of it this year.

When I first started shooting 'Sharpe,' back in the early 1990s, I'd kiss my two elder daughters goodbye at the end of August - Evie wasn't even born then - and I wouldn't see them again until Christmas. That was tough. They were hard times.

I used to get quite upset that I'd make friends with a guy or a girl and then within the space of three years we'd move and go and live somewhere else, and you'd have to say goodbye to that person.

The story of life is quicker than the blink of an eye, the story of love is hello, goodbye.

At the end of the day I have always seen the end of my relationships as a personal failure. There is nothing ever pretty in saying goodbye.

I am not afraid of dying. I have lived longer than most people in the world. What scares me is to have a body that works but a brain that is waving goodbye. If that happens, I hope I die quickly.

It's interesting, isn't it? . . . the chandelier . . . it reminds me of mushroom soup.

Where will we go?""I hear hell is particularly nice at this time of year.