Quotes About Yearning

Meet me at the moon.

There is/no reasoning with need.

He said, I don't know what the water wanted. It wanted to show you no one would come.

Anchored in unknowing, I yearn to rise out of the restlessness of my own forms of helplessness inside a structure that constricts possibilities.

He who desires is always poor.

Here, Clare, Clare, Clare . . . Come to Papa!

And if only it would stop, shut itself up for good- this off-key 'if only' that goes on singing, like some deranged child, repeating.

at first we love the illusion of perfection. Later we come to love imperfections, because they signal vulnerability: and what we love, we yearn to protect.

Once in your life you had a girlfriend (or a boyfriend)... and the person never knew it.

She just stood there and looked at the empty highway, and you could almost tell how bored she was by the way she stood.

I don't wanna need you because I can't have you.

We burn so hard, but we shed so little light; it makes us crazy and sad.

I had to leave Paris the next morning. As always I would wonder why and start counting the days before I could go back. And then lose count and be lost again in the life that, by some strange twist of fate, I lived somewhere else. Au revoir Paris. Bonjour tristesse.

When you miss someone....it's weird…your body doesn't function normally..as it should. Because I miss you, and my heart…it's not steady…my soul it sings numb. Fingers are cold…like you…your soul.

This is the thing, I think often, that never occurs to you when you consider what it would be like to lose someone you love. That you would miss not just the flowers and kisses, but the totality of the experience. You miss the failures and little evils with as much desperation as you miss being held in the middle of the night.

Every time I look down on this timeless town Whether blue or gray be her skies. Whether loud be her cheers or soft be her tears, More and more do I realize: I love Paris in the springtime. I love Paris in the fall. I love Paris in the winter when it drizzles, I love Paris in the summer when it sizzles. I love Paris every moment, Every moment of the year. I love Paris, why, oh why do I love Paris? Because my love is near.

Two princes. Fine men indeed. But neither is the prince of my heart.

Inhale autumn, long for spring

That lovely voice; how I should weep for joy if I could hear it now!

It can't drag on this way much longer," she said to herself. "One evening he'll whistle under my window, I'll go down by a ladder or a knotted rope and he will carry me away on a motorcycle, off to a den where his subjects will be assembled. He'll say: 'Here is your new Queen.' And... and... it will be terrible!" viii. Their Queen is away and anarchy reigns! The Journal said so! How grand to be Queen, with a red ribbon and a revolver...

After you, probably anyone can have me who wants me. A woman, many women. But never another cat.

Il emportait un malaise qu'il connaissait trop bien, l'agacement, la gêne de ne jamais exprimer ce qu'il eût voulu exprimer, de ne jamais rencontrer la personne à qui il devait confier un aveu indéfini, un secret qui eût tout changé et dépouillé de son signe néfaste.

Homesickness springs from the isolation of the soul from its surroundings.

And so, although I have no lyre, I sing: For there is a desire, within me - a self-taught hymn