October knew, of course, that the action of turning a page, of ending a chapter or of shutting a book, did not end a tale. Having admitted that, he would also avow that happy endings were never difficult to find: It is simply a matter, he explained to April, of finding a sunny place in a garden, where the light is golden and the grass is soft; somewhere to rest, to stop reading, and to be content.

What the trees can do handsomely-greening and flowering, fading and then the falling of leaves-human beings cannot do with dignity, let alone without pain.

Despite the fact that I have no regrets about how things turned out in my life, I still can't help wanting to understand my intense relationship with Leo, as well as that turbulent time between adolescence and adulthood when everything feels raw and invigorating and scary-and why those feelings are all coming back to me now.

In the planning stage of a book, don't plan the ending. It has to be earned by all that will go before it.

There is no real ending. It's just the place where you stop the story.

Since when, he asked,Are the first line and last line of any poemWhere the poem begins and ends?

A breeze blows up, touching my cheek like a little child's kiss. It flutters a piece of paper. Trash, out there? Must belong to one of us. We move closer, and when I reached for it, I find...... a perfect paper airplane.

He who is certain he knows the ending of things when he is only beginning them is either extremely wise or extremely foolish; no matter which is true, he is certainly an unhappy man, for he has put a knife in the heart of wonder.

But as long as something is never even started, you never have to worry about it ending. It has endless potential.

I always had this idea that you should never give up a happy middle in the hopes of a happy ending, because there is no such thing as a happy ending. Do you know what I mean? There is so much to lose.

It's much easier to not know things sometimes. Things change and friends leave. And life doesn't stop for anybody.

I am no king, and I am no lord,And I am no soldier at-arms, said he.I'm none but a harper, and a very poor harper,That am come hither to wed with ye.If you were a lord, you should be my lord,And the same if you were a thief, said she.And if you are a harper, you shall be my harper,For it makes no matter to me, to me,For it makes no matter to me.But what if it prove that I am no harper?That I lied for your love most monstrously?Why, then I'll teach you to play and sing,For I dearly love a good harp, said she.

Spring is proof that there is beauty in new beginnings.

As I witness the dead of beloved ones, it makes be become more conscious that life indeed has an end.

We must be conscious of this; one day, the life we have, will be gone.

Do not wait until the near end of your life to realize that you have not fully lived to love.

God alone can finish.

When she got a letter from him that had been dictated to his stenographer, she knew that his splurge was over.

It was not clear how it would end. In nineteenth-century novels, they get married. In twentieth-century novels, they get divorced. Can you have an ending in which they do neither?

Very, very slowly, the dwarf remnants of what was once our mighty sun will cool and dim, until it embarks on its final metamorphosis, gradually solidifying into a crystal of extraordinary rigidity. Eventually it will fade out completely, merging quietly into the blackness of space.