Quotes & Sayings About Him Letting Me Go

Am I prepared to let God grip me by His power and do a work in me that is worthy of Himself? Sanctification is not my idea of what I want God to do for me; sanctification is God's idea of what He wants to do for me, and He has to get me into the attitude of mind and spirit where at any cost I will let Him sanctify me wholly. — Oswald Chambers

The winter of 1991 found me stunned and shivering in the aftermath of an imploded love affair. Being 26, I flung myself actorishly on London and, without any intimations of my own ludicrousness, spent two years showing God what I thought of Him by letting myself go. — Glen Duncan

What are you doing?" I asked him. He'd shown no sign of letting up, like he was just going to go down on me indefinitely, with no signs of stopping for the foreseeable future. He smiled. Yes, it was a cold smile, but I was starting to like that just fine. "Showing manners. — R.K. Lilley

Me own mam saw things," he said, looking at the fire as if she might be there behind it. "And they always came true. She didn't say anything about spirits. She just called it the Second Sight. Said it was hereditary and dangerous sometimes,if you didn't take care."
"Do you have it? Do you see things?"
He shook his head.
"Colin." If he thought I was going to be fobbed off with a vague reply, the day's events had clearly addled his wits. He had to know I had no intention of letting this lie.
"She told me about a girl with violet eyes," he said quietly, rising to his feet.
I looked up at him, startled. "She did?"
"Aye." He nodded. "I should go." He stalked toward the door, opening it slightly to make sure the hallway was deserted. His hair was still damp, tousled. I couldn't help but remember the weight of his body pressing me into the grass.
"Colin?" I said quietly.
"I have to go." He didn't turn around.
The door closed behind him. — Alyxandra Harvey

I whispered to him,
You'll regret it if you let me go.
I don't wait for a man, if he's not willing to grow'
He didn't believe me, he made his choice
&
That was the last time, he ever heard my voice. — Nikki Rowe

The problem is that stepping away from Brian, leaving him standing under that pergola on Wednesday, is no longer enough to leave behind how he made me feel in that hour. I could leave him there, we could part as strangers, but God, I know that I would look for him. He would live in my peripheral vision, a ghost nudging me to turn and look behind me, only to find a spot that is emptier than empty — Mary Ann Rivers

Well, every man has a religion; has something in heaven or earth which he will give up everything else for - something which absorbs him - which may be regarded by others as being useless - yet it is his dream, it is his lodestar, it is his master. That, whatever it is, seized upon me, made me its servant, slave - induced me to set aside the other ambitions a trail of glory in the heavens, which I followed, followed with a full heart ... When once I am convinced, I never let go ... — Walt Whitman

With shaking hands, I hold the letter and slide my back down the wall until I'm on the floor. My tears drop on what he's written, leaving blurred ink in its place. I cry for everything that's lost. I cry that he gave up. I cry for the anger in his words. I cry that he's found someone that has made him consider letting me go. I cry for the day I ever met him and thought I could handle someone like him. I cry that the girl he met that day in the restaurant is long gone.
And I cry because I don't know what to do with this person that's left. — Willow Aster

He lay on top of me, buried deep, and fell asleep.
He slept all night like that, and I did not move him, did not want to. I gasped breath in and out and closed my eyes and thought that I would never forget this feeling, of him on me and in me, of him consuming my soul and letting me go.
He was too callous, too far gone to realize that I'd never be free of him, and all he'd really done was set me adrift.
I never left that bed.
That feeling of helpless abandonment and unendurable longing stayed inside of me, for hours, for minutes, for weeks.
For years.
I went through my life, through tragedy and pain, through hardship and life, and my heart, my very sould, stayed in that bed.
I felt broken after that last encounter.
Pieces of me had been shattered on that bed, important, essential pieces, and they would not, could not, ever find their way back together.
But I kept going. Life is cruel like that. — R.K. Lilley

I gave him a challenging half smirk. You were the one who traveled halfway across the country to find me, Zeke Crosse. Now that you have, and now that you insist that something brought us together, I'm afraid you're not getting rid of me that easily. Or, maybe I should say, I'm not letting you go. Vampires are possessive like that. — Julie Kagawa

Do you love me?" Diana asked.
Caine's eyes widened. She could actually see him twitch. Like a startled animal. Like a rabbit who had just heard a fox.
"It's a yes or no question," Diana said acidly. "But I'll accept a nod or a shake of the head or an incoherent grunt."
"I . . . I don't know what you mean by that," Caine said lamely.
"When I jumped off the cliff, you saved me even though it meant letting Sanjit and the others escape."
"You didn't give me much choice," Caine said peevishly. "You had a choice. You wanted to destroy them."
"Okay."
"Why did you make that choice?"
Caine swallowed and seemed to find his palms sweaty since he rubbed them on his sides.
Diana walked to the door. She unlocked it and held it open. "Go away," she said. "Come back when you figure out your answer. — Michael Grant

You don't deserve me," he agreed. "You deserve better. But you're stuck with me, and you might as well get over it." Scooping me under him in one agile movement, he rolled on top of me, his black eyes all pirate. "I have no intention of letting you go easily, something to keep in mind. I don't care if it's another man, your mother, or the powers of hell trying to pry us apart, I'm not easing up and I'm not saying good-bye. — Becca Fitzpatrick

She sat there reading; cool, calm and collected. "You could ruin his life with that information," her friend reported triumphantly. The woman sighed, clearly annoyed at being interrupted. "If I did he would never forget me," she replied. "Besides ... I don't care enough about his life to concern myself with what he does with it as long as he doesn't concern himself with thoughts of me." Her friend furrowed her brows. "Why?" she asked. The woman set her book down, leaned forward provocatively and said, "Because then I'd have to think of him too. — Donna Lynn Hope

And yes - he will come to puking himself and feeling like stabbed through the head, but better there than in ambulance, BOOM, shirt cut open, mask jammed down on him, peoples slapping his face to wake him, laws involved, everyone very harsh and judgmental - believe me, Narcan, very very violent experience, you feel bad enough when you come round without being in hospital, bright lights and everyone very disapproving and hostile, treating you like shit, 'drug addict,' 'overdose,' all these nasty looks, maybe not letting you go home when you want, psych ward maybe, social worker marching in to give you the big 'So Much to Live For' talk and maybe on top of it all, nice visit from the cops - Hang — Donna Tartt

Don't worry about hurting me, Jordan." She brushed back her hair again as she turned from him and headed for the bedroom. "It was too late for that a long time ago."
...
"I've heard the lecture," she informed him as she glared back at him. "I've heard you tell your men how love is an illusion, and how they need to watch their backs before that illusion bites him on the ass, so many times it sickens me. Unless you have something original to add to it, then I don't want to hear it again, if you don't mind."
...
"You're fooling yourself." He had to force the words past his lips. "You're letting lust and pleasure betray you. Tehya. It tricks you. When it fades, all you have left is either friendship or enmity. It's the enmity that worries me, the knowledge of all the little ways you can destroy one another with the knowledge you've gained. I don't want us to go that route. I don't want you to hate me."
...
"Who ruined you before I ever had a chance at your heart? — Lora Leigh

Rebecca glared at her. "Congratulations. You just cost me a million dollar account." Brianna crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh don't worry. I'm sure with your talents you could earn another mil in no time. I'll tell them to clear a street corner for you." Rebecca lunged for her and Alessandro stepped between the two women. "Brianna, come on," he said guiding his wife away from the table. "What? I'm not a child. I can handle her." "I'm sure you can." He informed the waiter they would be taking their bottle of sparkling cider home. "But you're letting your emotions get away with you. Your brother is a grown man and can handle himself." Brianna blew a raspberry at him. "Oh yes, quite mature. Let's go home." He guided her towards the entrance. — E. Jamie

Where are you going?" he asked as she clomped down the bleachers in her heavy black boots. "I don't know." "I'll walk you," he said as he stood and followed her. "No." "I'm not going to let you walk alone at this time at night." She stepped off the last bleacher and walked across the track to the football field. She looked over her shoulder. "Stop following me." Once she reached the middle of the field, she looked back again. "I said, stop following me." "I'm' not letting you walk alone." That made her stop and turn to him. "What is the matter with you? Stop being so ... so ... " "What?" "Nice to me." She lowered herself to the ground and sat cross-legged. " I'm sitting here until you go away." This didn't exactly have the effect she wanted. "Don't sit beside me. Don't ... " She sighed when Sawyer sat beside her, right there on the fifty yard line. — Sarah Addison Allen

On this Thursday, on this particular walk to school, there was an old frog croaking in the stream behind the hedge as we went by.
'Can you hear him, Danny?'
'Yes,' I said,
'That is a bullfrog calling to his wife. He does it by blowing out his dewlap and letting it go with a burp.'
'What is a dewlap?' I asked.
'It's the loose skin on his throat. He can blow it up just like a balloon.'
'What happens when his wife hears him?'
'She goes hopping over to him. She is very happy to have been invited. But I'll tell you something very funny about the old bullfrog. He often becomes so pleased with the sound of his own voice that his wife has to nudge him several times before he'll stop his burping and turn round to hug her.'
That made me laugh.
'Dont laugh too loud,' he said, twinkling at me with his eyes. 'We men are not so very different from the bullfrog. — Roald Dahl

Alec took a deep breath and let it out. Well, he'd come this far; he might as well go on. The bare lightbulb hanging overhead cast sweeping shadows as he reached forward and pressed the buzzer.
A moment later a voice echoed through the stairwell. "WHO CALLS UPON THE HIGH WARLOCK?"
"Er," Alec said. "It's me. I mean, Alec. Alec Lightwood."
There was a sort of silence, as if even the hallway itself were surprised. Then a ping, and the second door opened, letting him out onto the stairwell. He headed up the rickety stairs into the darkness, which smelled like pizza and dust. The second floor landing was bright, the door at the far end open. Magnus Bane was leaning in the entryway. — Cassandra Clare

He tasted deeper, holding himself over me, and suddenly he was everywhere; his knee trapping my leg, his lips grazing warm, rough, sensuous. He splayed his hand at the small of my back, holding me tightly, driving me to sink my fingers deeper into him, clinging to him as if letting go would mean losing part of myself. — Becca Fitzpatrick

So tell me why you don't know when you were born," Wilson said, abandoning Poe.
"Do you enjoy picking scabs?" I shot back.
"What? Why?"
"Because you keep picking mine, and it kind of hurts," I whined, hoping my pathetic pleas of "ouch" would end the questioning.
"Oh, well, then. Yes. I suppose I love picking scabs. Out with it. We've got at least three miles to go."
I sighed heavily, letting him know I didn't think it was any of his business. But I proceeded to tell him anyway. — Amy Harmon

Most Christians are like a man who was toiling along the road, bending under a heavy burden, when a wagon overtook him. The driver kindly offered to help him on his journey. He joyfully accepted the offer but, when he was seated, continued to bend beneath his burden, which he still kept on his shoulders. "Why do you not lay down your burden?" asked the kind-hearted driver. "Oh!" replied the man, "I feel that it is almost too much to ask you to carry me, and I could not think of letting you carry my burden too." And so Christian who have given themselves into the care and keeping of the Lord Jesus still continue to bend beneath the weight of their burdens and often go weary and heavy-laden throughout the whole length of their journey. — Hannah Whitall Smith

This may sound like heresy, but it is the greatest truth! It is more difficult to let God love us, than to love Him! The best way to love Him in return is to open our hearts and let Him love us. Let Him draw close to us and feel Him close to us. This is really very difficult: letting ourselves be loved by Him. And that is perhaps what we need to ask today in the Mass: 'Lord, I want to love You, but teach me the difficult science, the difficult habit of letting myself be loved by You, to feel You close and feel Your tenderness ! May the Lord give us this grace. — Pope Francis

Your hunger is returning."
Like she didn't know that. "That's why I came back down here, to let you know."
"And instead you ended up hearing what you shouldn't have."
"I'd say I came back just in time to hear what I needed to." She pinched his arm, letting him know with her eyes that she would pinch harder if he didn't see reason. "Let me go."
"I'm feeling a bit protective right now, so you probably want to be humoring me."
"This millennium protective, or eighteen sixties protective?"
"Definitely eighteen sixties. — Sarah McCarty

My illusion, the idea of a soul mate, was so entrenched in my fantasy that the thought of letting him go, wrecked me. — M.R. Field

Donte was stood there with Claire's phone. "Your not Claire! Where is she?" I say as I stand up. "Issobelle! Stand right there and do not move! Do you hear me?" shit! He sounds angry! I should be angry not him. I go to walk past him, but he grabs me and pushes me against the wall. He used quiet abit of force and hurt my back, but he wasn't letting go. I tried to pull away but his grip got tighter. He was actually hurting me. "Donte! Get the hell of me! Your hurting me! — T.L. Messruther

Ulis, he prayed, abandoning the set words, let my anger die with him. Let both of us be freed from the burden of his actions. Even if I cannot forgive him, help me not to hate him. Ulis was a cold god, a god of night and shadows and dust. His love was found in emptiness, his kindness in silence. And that was what Maia needed. Silence, coldness, kindness. He focused his thoughts carefully on the familiar iconography, the image of Ulis's open hands; the god of letting go was surely the god who would listen to an unwilling emperor. Help me not to feel hatred, he prayed, and after a while it became easier to ask that Dazhis find peace, that Maia's anger not be added to the weight against his soul. — Katherine Addison

Rakitin doesn't understand it, all he wants is to build his house and rent out rooms ... Life is simple for Rakitin: 'You'd do better to worry about extending mans civil rights,' he told me today, 'or at least about not letting the price of beef go up; you'd render your love for mankind more simply and directly that way than with any philosophies.' But I came back at him: 'And without God,' I said, 'you'll hike up the price of beef yourself, if the chance comes your way, and make a rouble on every kopeck. — Fyodor Dostoyevsky

You're absolved," I tell him.
He brings his eyes back up to mine. There's no fucking way he knows what that word means. That's a word I dream someone will say to me.
So I put it in his language. "You're free. — Hannah Moskowitz

How can he love me then not? He went,he ran. And I cannot bring him back. Yet I left the door metaphorically wide open, hoping he'd come back and bang on it proclaiming, "I want to be here with you. Always." Soon I'm going to have to shutit. For my safety and my sanity. Let go. I don't want to. Won't letting go be just that - letting go? Giving up? Admitting failure? Admitting that it is really, truly over? — Freya North

Did I ever tell you about the day I finally let go of him? That day that led me to you? — Sarah Addison Allen

And it killed me because I could never forget him. Couldn't because he'd permanently etched himself to me, left a part of himself forever within me. For so many years I'd loved him, but when he'd gone this time, he'd taken a part of me captive too, a piece that could never be retrieved because it would always belong to him ... — A.L. Jackson

I hated him, I loved him, I hated myself for loving him. I hated myself for letting him go, for letting him find someone else. I was furious, but the truth was nearly everything he'd said about me was true. — Kandi Steiner

Why is it so important for me to forgive that son-of-a-bitch? I'm not the one at fault here. It shouldn't be about me. He's the one that did wrong. Screw his feelings. He should feel like he's hated for what he did." Lisa added another used tissue to the growing pile on the table.
Lyn warmly smiled. "Forgiving Byron isn't for his sake, it's for yours. The block in your life's road can only be removed if you forgive him for what he did. If you don't, you'll just keep bumping into that block again and again. The life you live will be miserable. You'll never be able to break the chains of the past."
Lisa listened and let the words sink into her subconscious. She realized the only way to get to the end of the road was to take the first step. There was a block preventing her from moving forward in life. She had to find a way past it. — Dane Hatchell

Sydney," Adrian interrupted, cupping my face in his hands. "Never, ever think like that. I don't
regret anything we've faced. Being with you is the best thing that's ever happened to me, the one
perfect decision I've made in a lifetime of fumbling and poor judgment. I'd go through it all again to
be by your side. Never doubt that. Never doubt how I feel about you."
"Oh, Adrian," I said, letting him wrap me in his arms, surprised at the bubble of emotion welling
up within me.
He held me tightly. "I love you. If anything, I can't believe you gave up everything you did to be
with me. You changed your whole life for me."
"My life didn't even begin until I met you," I told him fiercely. — Richelle Mead

I clung to him like my life depended on it. Maybe it did. I hadn't seen him for so many years, and so much had happened in my life since I had last seen his face, but at that moment I was thirteen again. Someone I had loved had returned, someone lost had come back to me, and I held him fiercely, with no intention of ever letting him go. — Amy Harmon

I drift off for a while. I don't know how long, but when I open my eyes, the Oscars are still on and Alex tells me that Sid has gone and this makes me a little sad. Whatever the four of us had is over. He is my daughter's boyfriend now, and I am a father. A widower. No pot, no cigarettes, no sleeping over. They'll have to find inventive ways to conduct their business, most likely in uncomfortable places, just like the rest of them. I let him and my old ways go. We all let him go, as well as who we were before this, and now it's really just the three of us. I glance over at the girls, taking a good look at what's left. — Kaui Hart Hemmings

Go away," his sister says. "I'm going to the circus, if you would care to join me," Bailey says, his voice dull. He already knows what her answer will be. "No," she says, as predictable as the dinnertime silence. "How childish," she adds, shooting him a disdainful glare. Bailey leaves without another word, letting the wind slam the front door behind him. The — Erin Morgenstern

This is what it means, for me, to be called. This is what it means to follow the living Lord...It meant letting go of everything in my life that I thought might give me security, and coming to the realization that such trust ought never be placed in anything but the living Son of God.

Being called by God, I learned...means being called to surrender - not just surrendering once, and then returning to our former way of life, but an entire life of surrender...

Christian calling means being called by the living, resurrected Christ to follow Him. And it is in following Christ, through continual self-surrender, that we begin to realize who we are, and what it means to walk with God day by day. — Ryan J. Pemberton

You'll never be able to let him go. You'll always feel wrong about being with me. — Suzanne Collins

I don't have the answers. I don't know how this story will end. All I know is that there is a very real God whom my mother adores, and if she, in all her pain and suffering, can still radiate worship, how much more should I? He sees the little sparrow fall. He sees my mum dancing to the rhythms of his grace, and he sees me in all my anger trying to love him in spite of it all. So I will continue to trust, even if it means letting her go. — Emily T. Wierenga

It's not a switch you can just flip off", Dr. Marshall had told me once. "If you didn't love him, this never would have happened. But you did. And accepting that love-and everything that followed is part of letting it go. — Sarah Dessen

You're back and forth with me, with your actions, with your emotions. You act like you don't remember me, then spring on me that you do. You flirt with me and then you stop on a dime. You kiss me and then you pull away as soon as I touch you. You're mad then you're not." I don't stop to take a breath or let him speak before finally raising the hand he's holding and letting it go. "You're holding my hand, then . . ." I trail off, not sure of how to finish that thought. Tearing my gaze from his, I try to rein in my emotions, to wipe the flustered girl up off the floor. — Kim Karr

...if a person remains in a state of unforgiveness the Spirit of the Lord will allow tormentors to enter him. That's what Christ told Peter when the disciple asked, "Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Up to seven times?" (Matt. 18:21). — Benny Hinn

He was there. Like always, holding me up when I couldn't' stand and letting me go when he knew I needed him to. He was more than just a shelter. Aiden was my other half, my equal. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

James Wilkie is so conscious of the time we spend together. I try to be home to tuck him in at least four nights a week, and if I'm not, he's not letting me get away with anything. The other night I was sitting with him on the steps before Matthew and I went out to the theater, and he looked at me and said, 'Mama, this has got to stop. Go upstairs and take that dress off.' — Sarah Jessica Parker

When it came to love you had to know when to fight, and you had to know when to let go. I was letting go. I never wanted to look at him and hate him; but if I kept myself in this situation I would. I would hate him for never giving me what I wanted. And that wasn't fair. — Rachel Hayes

I truly and deeply wanted to kill him. And I believe I could have done it, with nothing but my hands. But all of a sudden, out of nowhere, Peter had an arm around me. "Let it go, Kade," he was whispering very gently, though his arm was nearly crushing me. "Open your fists," he said, "and let go of the coals. — David James Duncan

Sold my soul to Satan. I've been dancing with the devil. So when you get to hell you can say you know me. I'm easily attracted by the dark side. Devil keep following. For that fortune, some sold their soul to Satan. Was on track for the first two years, then i let the Devil steer. Now i got to mask my tears, but allow me to re-introduce myself, my name is Cole: Born sinner, opposite of a winner. But the Devil run the T.V. so the demons in him, I'm in trouble did a deal with the Devil but now I'm pleading with him like give me my soul. I ain't ever letting go but the devil don't play fair. — J. Cole

My heart didn't break into a thousand pieces after he left. Instead, I realized all the things he didn't do. He didn't want to hear my stories. He didn't ask me questions. He didn't smile when I was talking to him. He didn't hug me out of the blue to make me feel good. His hugs were always a preamble to something else and after he was gone, I wondered if he ever knew me at all. — Diane Les Becquets

He found his voice first, though it was a ragged whisper, "Thank you." If I'd had enough breath I'd have laughed. My throat was so dry, that my voice sounded stiff. "Trust me on this, Frost, it was my pleasure." He bent over and laid a kiss on my cheek. "I will try to do better next time." He moved his hands away from me, letting me move, but stayed sheathed inside me as if he were reluctant to let that go. I looked at him, thinking he was joking, but his face was utterly serious. "It gets better than this?" I asked. He nodded solemnly. "Oh, yes." "The queen was a fool," I said softly. He smiled then. "I always thought so. — Laurell K. Hamilton