Sad Ending Quotes

“The dead still come to me every now and then. But the lulls between are getting smaller. They are finding me somehow. I tell them why they can’t move on. I listen to their lives and talk to them if they need it. I still draw their portraits in my sketchbook, with their stories. I put Mary Summer in there too. Someone should remember.”
― B.L. Brunnemer, Trying to Live With the Dead

“si hubiéramos tenido mas tiempo me hubiera enamorado de ti”
― Adam Silvera, They Both Die at the End

“There is a sad end I used to live
even before I knew
this is how I was meant to begin.”
― Khadija Rupa, Unexpressed Feelings

“And of the Witch? In the life of a Witch, there is no after, in the ever after of a Witch, there is no happily; In the story of a Witch, there is no afterword.”
― Gregory Maguire, Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West

“Mostly because Lydia said after a long silence, "Holy shit. We are living in a Nicholas Sparks novel."
"Exactly," she said from between her knees. "And I'm so not okay with that.”
― Charlotte Stein, Never Sweeter

“When lunchtime comes, as always, I run to Library 1.2. I run my fingers along the edges of the books and follow the path to the romance section, looking for the seventeenth book in the ninth row of the third shelf. This is my routine and I adore every moment of it. One of the pages of the book is different from the rest; it was glued in to replace the original page, which had been torn out. On the patched page, I find my favorite passage from the story. I sit on the floor and read.
“How’s the patient?” he asked Derby.
“Dead to the world.”
“But not actually dead.”
“No.”
“How nice—to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive.”
I close the book and think of my best friend. How I wish he were here to see everything we achieved together. So he could see how our mission changed the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. I wanted to see the look of joy in his eyes as we admired together the demolition of the Wall. Of all the wishes, I wanted to talk to him about rhymes and metrics, sonnets and quatrains, about all the things I’ve been learning at school.
Sometimes, the longing hits so hard that I feel as if part of me died with him. As if part of my soul went with Mário, because I’ve never felt complete, whole, again.
I feel broken, old scrap.
I know Mário wanted to bring change to Redentor, but there are times when I feel it wasn’t worth it. I know it’s selfish, but I would trade all this sea of smiles on strangers’ faces to have a life by my friend’s side. I know he sacrificed himself for the good of all, but I allow myself to be a little selfish. Just a little.

Two of the few things I asked for after my participation in the revolution were Firstborn's box and Mário’s chip. At first, many came to me, trying to convince me to engage in political struggle, to be a poster boy, but my mother didn’t allow it.
He’s going to school, she said. His mission is over. Now, he’s going to be a child.
I like that my mother protects me from the adult world. And all I want is to be a normal boy and live my days peacefully. I no longer want to be involved in shootouts, explosions, and revolutions, of that I’m sure.
But she’s wrong about one thing: my mission is not over yet. It all began with Mário by my side, and it will only end with him by my side again.
Every night, before sleeping, I fiddle and tinker with the insides of that computer, just waiting to see that red light turn on and the sides of the lenses spin in processing. So far, all I’ve gotten are some light shocks. Even old Jeremias has already said the chip is completely broken, beyond repair.
I refuse to give up.
– Today’s the day – I say to myself as I unscrew the computer.
I replace the old wiring with new ones, clean the processor and run the chip through an advanced recovery system. I work for two hours hunched over the table. I plug the machine in and press the button.
Nothing.
Zero.
Absolutely nothing.
I sigh.
I don’t let discouragement or despair take hold of me. Tomorrow, I will continue. And if tomorrow the red light doesn’t turn on, I’ll try the day after tomorrow. And after that, and after that, and after that. I will work until there’s no more tomorrow.
“Everything works out in the end. If it’s not right, it’s because it’s not the end yet.”
It was a robot who liked poetry who taught me:
That's how life works.”
― Ian Fraser