Quotes About Yearning

How do you resign yourself to something that will never be? You stop wanting just that thing. You go numb. Or you kill the agent of desire.

I don't know how it is, but I am so tired of commonplace happiness and commonplace goals.

He yearned for a thousand tremulous dreams, for cool and delicate images, transparent tints, fleeting scents, and exquisite music from streams of highly strung, tensely drawn silvery strings — and then silence, the innermost heart of silence, where the waves of air never bore a single stray tone, but where all was rest unto death, steeped in the calm glow of red colors and the languid warmth of fiery fragrance.

Aura, he whispered, I wish I could wipe away just one of your tears. Then I'd feel like a person again. Like I'm something more than a bunch of light.

stillborn love notes provide small satisfaction

The Holy Spirit makes us aware of our lack of holiness to stimulate us to deeper yearning and striving for holiness. But Satan will attempt to use the Holy Spirit's work to discourage us.

Our hearts yearn backward. We long to be found, hoping our searchers have not given up and gone home. But I no longer hope to be found. Do not follow me! Let's just be fabulously where we are and who we are. You be you and I'll be me, today and today and today, and let's trust the future to tomorrow. Let the stars keep track of us. Let us ride our own orbits and trust they will meet. May our reunion be not a finding but a sweet collision of destinies!

I felt alone on the planet, drifting through the cosmos. With both hands I reached out to the night. There was no answer. Or maybe I just couldn't hear it.

Tell me I didn't imagine it, Leo. Tell me that even though our bodies were in seperate states, our star selves shared an enchanted place. Tell me that right around noon today (eastern time) you had the strangest sensation: a tiny chill on your shoulder...a flutter in the heart...a shadow of strawberry-banana crossing your tongue...tell me you whispered my name.

To have a girl two thousand miles away going to pieces over you, weeping at the mere memory of you, losing her appetite, losing herself and her self respect - well, that's a trophy enough for a guy's ego, huh?

How do you not try to get something you want? How do you stop caring about the thing that you care about the most? How do you erase the other half of your own self?

In our minds we tried to pin her to a corkboard like a butterfly, but the pin merely went through and away she flew.

There was a sense that things - words, feelings, laughs - were forever brawling inside her to be the first one out. Now, beside me, I sensed... emptiness. Emptiness in such a person is not nothing, is not small. It is enormous. -Cammie

No matter what day it is, no matter what time, no matter where I am - I'm always at the star party, staring at the slhouette on the crest of the hill, whishing that one dark shape would split in two. But it never does.

When she dreams of love, she dreams of smashed potatoes.

The price of peace had been high: expelling himself from the gang, proclaiming himself a traitor, banishing his beloved pet. For such a price, a peace should be excellent. Yet when Palmer reached for it, tried to taste it, it was not there.

Nothing ever turns me on so much in a woman as unhappiness.

Our eyes kissed...

You wanted that which you've won, but you'll never win that which you've wanted.

Miranda, there is nothing I would rather do that fuck you. She flinched at his bluntness and Ethan's frown darkened. Don't recoil from that word. It is exactly what I want. I don't want to make love to you like a gentleman. I want to pound into you. I want to tie you down and make you beg. I want to lick every inch of your body until you're so wet with need that I almost slide out of you on every damned stroke.

Yes, but it is difficult to get what we need when it isn't what we truly want.

Her knees began to shake, not because he was beautiful, which he had always been, but because coming into this room with him here waiting for her…it was like coming home.

He wanted her. Now. He wanted her all night. Every night for a week. A month. Maybe even a year. He sank down in a chair beside the fire and rubbed his eyes. "I'm in trouble," he muttered. And never had he believed a statement more.

Her name is Lysandra Keates, and she arrived uninvited on my doorstep a few days ago. I do not know the particulars of her situation as of yet, but my impression is that she is in dire straits. She has begged me to match her with a man." "I am not looking for a mistress!" Andrew snapped, but he couldn't help a brief, powerful image of the girl in the garden…in his bed, her legs wrapped around him as he drove into her.