Le commencement et le déclin de l’amour se font sentir par l’embarras où l’on est de se trouver seuls.
  The beginning and the end of love are both marked by embarrassment when the two find themselves alone.

— La Bruyère—Les Caractères. IV 

The sun that brief December day
Rose cheerless over hills of gray,
And, darkly circled, gave at noon
A sadder light than waning moon.

— John Greenleaf Whittier (Snow-Bound) 

When we two parted 
  In silence and tears, 
Half broken-hearted 
  To sever for years, 
Pale grew thy cheek and cold, 
  Colder thy kiss; 
Truly that hour foretold 
  Sorrow to this. 

The dew of the morning 
  Sunk chill on my brow— 
It felt like the warning 
  Of what I feel now. 
Thy vows are all broken, 
  And light is thy fame; 
I hear thy name spoken, 
  And share in its shame. 

They name thee before me, 
  A knell to mine ear; 
A shrudder comes o’er me—
  Why wert thou so dear? 
They know not I knew thee, 
  Who knew thee so well—
Long, long I shall rue thee, 
  Too deeply to tell. 

In secret we met— 
  In silence I grieve, 
That thy heart could forget, 
  Thy spirit deceive 
If I should meet thee 
  After long years, 
How should I greet thee?—
  With silence and tears.

— Lord Byron (When we two parted) 

I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted 
to lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. 
How free it is, you have no idea how free.

— Sylvia Plath (The Bell Jar)