Quotes About Yearning

Did anyone who was in love and was unsatisfied with how he was loved in return ever feel saved?

there's a limit to enduring admiration being a substitute for love.

And when Dr. Daruwalla breathed in her dangerous aroma, he thought he'd at last identified the smell of sex, which struck him as an earthy commingling of death and flowers

From that moment on, he would never stop seeing her, not in his minds eye - not whenever he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. She would always be there.

Homer Wells non si sentiva in salvo. Chi mai, innamorato e insoddisfatto per come il suo amore è ricambiato, chi mai si sente in salvo? Al contrario, Homer Wells si sentiva preso di mira e perseguitato in modo speciale.

What bothered Ruth was that she needed to be with Rooie again -- just to see, as in a story, what would happen next. That meant Rooie was in charge.

But this is what we do: we dream on, and our dreams escape us almost as vividly as we can imagine them. That's what happens, like it or not.

The older they got, the more they needed; and the less anyone wanted or loved them.

And how do I say 'I miss you'? he wondered - when I don't mean 'I want to come back!'?

As Jack would discover, it's remarkable how you can miss people you barely knew—even those people you never especially liked.

Then I got up and went to the bathroom door and asked her if there was anything I could get her. "Thank you," she whispered. "Just go out and get me yesterday and most of today," she said. "I want them back." "Is that all?" I said. "Just yesterday and today?" "That's all," she said. "Thank you.

Homer Wells cried because he'd never known how nice a father's kisses could be, and he cried because he doubted that Wilbur Larch would ever do it again-or would have done it, if he'd thought Homer was awake.

I remember when you kissed me, he wrote to Dr. Larch. I wasn't really asleep. Yes, thought Dr. Larch, I remember that, too. He rested in the dispensary. Why didn't I kiss him more-why not all the time?

My mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it.

You cannot conceive how I ache to be with you: how I would die for one hour...

I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.

Touch has a memory. O say, love, say, What can I do to kill it and be free?

I never was in love - yet the voice and the shape of a woman has haunted me these two days.

This living hand, now warm and capable Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold And in the icy silence of the tomb, So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights That thou would wish thine own heart dry of blood, So in my veins red life might stream again, And thou be conscience-calm'd. See, here it is-- I hold it towards you.

Alas! when passion is both meek and wild!

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death...

Already with thee! tender is the night. . . But here there is no light. . .

When shall we pass a day alone? I have had a thousand kisses, for which with my whole soul I thank love - but if you should deny me the thousand and first - 'twould put me to the proof how great a misery I could live through.

I have clung To nothing, lov'd a nothing, nothing seen Or felt but a great dream!