Quotes About Yearning

I mean, being a child was being a child, was being a creature without power, without pocket money, without escape routes of any kind. So I didn't want to be a child.

I want to be alone and work until the day my heads hits the drawing table and I'm dead. Kaput. I feel very much like I want to be with my brother and sister again. They're nowhere. I know they're nowhere and they don't exist, but if nowhere means that's where they are, that's where I want to be.

And Max, the king of all wild things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.

Then from far away across the world he smelled good things to eat, so he gave up being king of the wild things.

I don't think you've been in love. Not recently, anyway. I'm not sure you remember what it's like. It compromises you. It takes over your body. Like a bareword. I think love is a bareword.

The most fundamental thing about a person is desire. It defines them. Tell me what a person wants, truly wants, and I'll tell you who they are, and how to persuade them.

To be with you somewhere within this evening's mystic shade, To hear your plans and hopes and tell you mine, all unafraid That you'd forget to hold them dear, When I'm away and you're not here.

Oh, this yearning to be white, this yearning to have straight hair, this lifelong striving to be different from the way one is created this great difficulty in accepting oneself, I knew it and saw only my own longing from outside, saw the absurdity of our yearning to be different from what we are...

Her white arms became my entire horizon ("The Rooster And The Pearl")

What was love if it wasn't their own dauntless spirits pushing them toward their heart's desire?

I know why the caged bird sings.

Tell me what you need." "You," she said simply, that one word tearing to the very heart of him. "Just you.

Sophie, honey, stop looking at me like that," Garrett said gruffly. "You'll have me convinced I'm going to die." "You're not?

Perhaps I'm tired of waiting for something I may never find.

Once upon a time, when she still believed that somewhere, out there, was a man who would love her. Once upon a time, when young girl's dreams came true and happily ever after was just within reach.

Kasno je, sje?anja, uzalud se javljate, beskorisne su vaše nemo?ne utjehe i podsje?anja na ono što je moglo da bude, jer što nije bilo, nije ni moglo da bude. A uvijek izgleda lijepo ono što se nije ostvarilo. Vi ste varka koja ra?a nezadovoljstvo, varka koju ne mogu i ne želim da otjeram jer me razoružava i tihom tugom brani od patnje.

?ovjek je proklet, i žali za svim putevima kojima nije prošao.

Usamljenost ra?a misao, misao nezadovoljstvo, nezadovoljstvo pobunu. Ja sam bio daleko od misli na pobunu: samo sam lijeno sanjario.

Ne daš mi da spavam - rekao sam, tobože prijekorno, a ništa drugo nisam želio, ni ljepše, ni draže, nikad, u životu.

Gdje su zlatne ptice ljudskih snova, preko kojih se to bezbrojnih mora i vrletnih planina do njih dolazi? Da li nam se ta duboka ?ežnja djetinje nerazumnosti posigurno javlja samo kao tužni znak izvezen na mahramama i na safijanskim koricama nepotrebnih knjiga?

Pusto mi je u duši. Prazno mi je srce.

Želim da me zvižduk vjetra zagluši, da zasvira kroz mene kao kroz trsku, mislim, kako bi bilo lijepo ne misliti, mislim: kako bi lijepo bilo na?i se sad na rijeci, šiban olujom, u ribarskoj barci ili u štrkljastoj drvenoj ku?ici na obali rijeke, okružen divljom stihijom, sam s njom, bez tuge u sebi i oko sebe. Ali to je samo trenutna želja, davnašnja potreba za bijegom i za odvajanjem od tereta u sebi, neostvariva ?ežnja za tišinama.

Where's the sun?" he asked me once. "Behind the clouds." "Is it always there? Even when it's cloudy?" "Always." "Could we see it if we climbed to the top of that poplar?" "No." "And if we were on a minaret?" "No. The clouds are above the minaret." "And if a hole was made in the clouds?" Indeed, why don't people make holes in clouds for boys who love the sun?

And what never happened always seems beautiful. You are a deception that gives birth to discontent, a deception that I cannot and do not wish to drive away, since it disarms me and protects me from suffering with a quiet grief.