Quotes About Yearning

You are the great love of my life that I'm never going to have.

How can I possibly say good-bye to the person I am so hopelessly, deeply and permanently in love with? Because I love you Chris. I do. I will always be in love with you, even though you'll never love me back. You have been my sanctuary this year. You saved me. Do you know that? You saved me. And I wish that you would let me save you.

I want to have sex. To be more accurate, I want to get fucked until I can't see straight.

The only thing that stands between you and your dreams is the fact that they are all illegal, immoral, and disgusting. Dream on, you little pervert!

Te necesito —le suplicó —eres todo lo que no soy.

It doesn't matter that we live together, that I'm with him every single day. I have the same strong reaction, the same unyielding surge of love that rips through me, every time I see him.

She read the two words that were so simple and so yet moving. Miss you.

Julie Seagle If you can't stop thinking about someone's update, that's called "status cling.

Pour your scotch on the rocks and drink your misery down. Go home and make love to her and picture me, picture me. Yeah, picture me!

Dear Die-ary, I stared, motionless, before the mirror. As always, I stayed until I'm convinced that there is no glass, nothing, separating me from the room I see on the other side. I imagine that everything is different over there. Better. There are people, in that world, who I would like. But, like always, my hand hits the glass. I know that if I'd only waited just one more second... Shit. I'm gonna go kill a party clown.

A woman who had fallen out of love with her life

It was only then, raising my water glass in his name, that I knew what it meant to miss someone who was so many miles and hours away, just as he had missed his wife and daughters for so many months.

She had denied herself the pleasure of openly sharing life with the person she loved.

In the days that follow, he begins to remember things about Moushumi, images that come to him without warning while he is sitting at his desk at work, or during a meeting, or drifting off to sleep, or standing in the mornings under the shower. They are scenes he has carried within him, buried but intact, scenes he has never thought about or had reason to conjure up until now.

I have only the desire. Yet ultimately a desire is nothing but a crazy need. As

She felt the lurch of a head rush. The boy who had not paid attention to her; the man who'd embarked on an affair knowing she could never be his; at the last moment he was asking for more. A piece of her was elated. But she was also struck by his selfishness.

For as grateful as she feels for the company of the Nandis and Dr. Gupta, these acquaintances are only substitutes for the people who really ought to be surrounding them. Without a single grandparent or parent or uncle or aunt at her side, the baby's birth, like most everything else in America, feels somehow haphazard, only half true.

He longed for sleep, but it would not immerse him; that night the waters he sought for his repose were deep enough to wade in, but not to swim.

he wanted to relive those confused days, that life of discovery, to be bound to those round tables and lectures and exams. There were things he had always meant to understand better [...] He wanted to read what he was told each evening, to do as he was told. There were great writers he had never read, would never read. His daughters would begin that journey soon enough, the world opening up for them in its entirety.

She wished the days and months ahead of her would end. But the rest of her life continued to present itself, time ceaselessly proliferating.

A cena faz Moushumi chorar. Ao mesmo tempo, ela fica contente de ter uma coisa tangível com a qual se aborrecer.

She cries as she feeds him, and as she pats him to sleep, and as he cries between sleeping and feeding. She cries after the mailman's visit because there are no letters from Calcutta. She cries when she calls Ashoke at his department and he does not answer. One day she cries when she goes to the kitchen to make dinner and discovers that they've run out of rice.

Ma alla fine un desiderio non è altro che un bisogno folle.

Suddenly he imagines the house where Bridget's husband lives alone, longing for her, with his unfaithful wife's name on the mailbox, her lipstick beside his shaving things. Only then does he feel guilty.