The back windows looked out over the fields, then the Atlantic, maybe a hundred yards away. Actually, I'm just making that bit up. I had no idea how far away the sea was. Only men could do things like that. Half a mile. Fifty yards. Giving directions, that sort of thing. I could look at a woman and say Thirty-six C. Or Let's try it in the next size up. But I had no idea how far away Tim's sea was except that I wouldn't want to walk to it in high heels.

Don't you see? You and he might never cross paths again. Of course, a chance meeting could occur, and I hope it happens. I really do, for your sake. But realistically speaking, you have to see there's a huge possibility you'll never be able to meet him again. And even if you do meet, he might already be married to somebody else. He might have two kids. Isn't that so? And in that case, you may have to live the rest of your life alone, never being joined with the one person you love in all the world. Don't you find that scary?

I like to prowl ordinary placesand taste the people-from a distance.

Every once in a while, people need to be in the presence of things that are really far away.

You're my closest friend and you're thousands of miles away.

So they were pen pals now, Emma composing long, intense letters crammed with jokes and underlining, forced banter and barely concealed longing; two-thousand-word acts of love on air-mail paper. Letters, like compilation tapes, were really vehicles for unexpressed emotions and she was clearly putting far too much time and energy into them. In return, Dexter sent her postcards with insufficient postage: "Amsterdam is MAD', "Barcelona INSANE', "Dublin ROCKS. Sick as DOG this morning.' As a travel writer, he was no Bruce Chatwin, but still she would slip the postcards in the pocket of a heavy coat on long soulful walks on Ilkley Moor, searching for some hidden meaning in "VENICE COMPLETELY FLOODED!!!!

There are many places you need to be, but there is nowhere to reach. There are many people you need to see but no one to meet. And there are many contacts in your phone but no one to talk. There are many masks in your closet but no face to please.

However close you get to others, you can never get inside them, even when you're inside them.

It seemed that we loved each other better when there were large swaths of two continents between us. The daily work of love was often hard to perform at home.

I didn't know someone could love me like this, she said. Could love me and love me and love me without...needing space.Lincoln wasn't asleep. He rolled on top of her.There's no air in space, he said.

To love purely is to consent to distance, it is to adore the distance between ourselves and that which we love.

We can only see a short distance ahead, but we can see plenty there that needs to be done.

I didnt pay atteniton to times or distance, instead focusing on how it felt just to be in motion, knowing it wasn't about the finish line but how I got there that mattered.

Distance sometimes lets you know who is worth keeping, and who is worth letting go.

Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.

I imagine a line, a white line, painted on the sand and on the ocean, from me to you.

The scariest thing about distance is that you don't know whether they'll miss you or forget you.

Complaining is a vain way of explaining pain without gaining relief. Keep complains distances away from you.

In science, work (W) is done when force (F) move a body through a distance (D). It is the same with our every day affairs. When you don't progress, no work is done irrespective of the force (power) you have

There is no need to slander the nimit (one who is instrumental), it is only necessary to distance yourself from that nimit.