Quotes About Yearning

Some nights the sky wept stars that quickly floated and disappeared into the darkness before our wishes could meet them.

Who in the world has not yearned for a loved one, has never said, If only he or she could come back just once, just one more time...? Despite the fact that it can never happen, never ever. Surely this is the saddest thing about our mortal world, and its sadness will go on shrouding human life like a blanket of fog until its final extinction.

Don't you understand that wanting does not belong here, because that is what wounds, and there is never an end to it.

My heart belongs to you,' He promised. 'Would you have loved me when I was a girl?' 'I have always loved you. Even before I met you I loved the idea of you.

You are born with the yearning arrow, my Glynna, though you are not yet fully aware of it. It is not a happy thing to possess, for nothing on earth - no goal, no person how ever beloved - will answer it. It points to the sky and to the heavens and the stars and when it cannot reach them, it must fall back to pierce your heart.

He who is not impatient is not in love.

Elsewhere is a negative mirror. The traveler recognizes the little that is his, discovering the much he has not had and will never have.

I could distinguish the shape of her bosom, her arms, her thighs, just as I remember them now, just as now, when the Moon has become that flat, remote circle, I still look for her as soon as the first sliver appears in the sky, and the more it waxes, the more clearly I imagine I can see her, her or something of her, but only her, in a hundred, a thousand different vistas, she who makes the Moon the Moon and, whenever she is full, sets the dogs to howling all night long, and me with them.

If a lover is wretched who invokes kisses of which he knows not the flavor, a thousand times more wretched is he who has had a taste of the flavor and then had it denied him.

That wish to enter into an elusive element which had urged Cosimo into the trees, was still working now inside him unsatisfied, making him long for a more intimate link, a relationship which would bind him to each leaf and twig and feather and flutter.

How can you keep up with her, this woman who is always reading another book besides the one before her eyes, a book that does not yet exist, but which, since she wants it, cannot fail to exist?

There is a story that for me comes before all other stories and of which all the stories I read seem to carry an echo, immediately lost. In my readings I do nothing but seek that book read in my childhood, but what I remember of it is too little to enable me to find it again.

È per smaltire un carico di nostalgia che sei andato tanto lontano!

The moment that counts most for me is the one that precedes reading. At times a title is enough to kindle in me the desire for a book that perhaps does not exist.

Se infelice è l'innamorato che invoca baci di cui non sa il sapore, mille volte più infelice è chi questo sapore gustò appena e poi gli fu negato.

Desires are already memories.

my love now knew only the heart-rending nostalgia for what it lacked: a where, a surrounding, a before, an after.

?imdi Marcovaldo'nun uyuyabilmek için, ne oldu?unu kendisinin de pek bilmedi?i bir ?eye gereksinimi vard?, art?k gerçek, tam bir sessizlik bile yeterli olmayacakt?, sessizlikten daha yumu?ak bir dip gürültüsü, orman a?açlar?n?n ete?indeki bitkileri yalayan hafif bir meltem ya da çay?rdan f??k?rarak ak?p giden bir suyun ??r?lt?s?n? istiyordu.

Cosimo sat in the ash tree every day, gazing at the meadow as if he could read in it something that had long been consuming him inside: the very idea of distance, of the gap that can't be bridged, of the wait that can last longer than life.

Si mette a letto dalla propria parte, ma prima col piede, poi con tutto il corpo, si sposta tutto nella nicchia di tepore lasciata dalla moglie. Quando lei torna la sera, lui è alzato da un pezzo ad aspettarla. Mangiano qualcosa, con lo struggimento di avere così poco tempo per stare insieme, tanto che non riescono quasi a portarsi il cucchiaio alla bocca, dalla voglia che avrebbero "di star lì a tenersi per mano".

Elsewhere is a negative mirror. The traveller recognises the little that is his, discovering the much he has not had and will never have.

ma Pin non ha voglia di giocare e continua a camminare a perdifiato, con una tristezza che gli annuvola la gola.

But Ludmilla is always at least one step ahead of you. "I like to know that book exists that I will still be able to read…" she says, sure that existent objects, concrete albeit unknown, must correspond to the strength of her desire. How can you keep up with her, this woman who is always reading another book besides the one before her eyes, a book that does not yet exist, but which, since she wants it, cannot fail to exist?

You, reader, believed that there, on the platform, my gaze was glued to the hands of the round clock of an old station, hands pierced like halberds, in the vain attempt to turn them back, to move backward over the cemetery of spent hours, lying lifeless in their circular pantheon.