Quotes About Yearning

As she rode, her dreams filled with that yielding breast and warm breath and those luscious lips until she thought she might run mad.

She longed for the sound of girls' voices or a woman singing as she fed chickens.

Her lips were soft and plump as rain and Peretur wanted to plunge her hands deep into her golden yellow hair, deep under her skirts to the soft places beneath, and she could feel their hearts thundering like horss, like hoses yoked and racing together, pulling towards the same goal, beanth tearing in and out.

There are more people who wish to be loved than there are who are willing to love.

Don't you know that we must always have a place where we never go but where we think we'd be happy if we did?

I cannot get close to any you.

opening and closing the pages of a celestial dictionary at will and always falling upon the words hair fur and sex until a bunch of distant images arise at the same time as June when she kneels in front of me her tongue making little cross-strokes in my full-moon fur my enchanted-lake fur we should do it again so that I too can stroke through June's fur.

Even as a child I had a strong relationship with yearning and desire. And loss. Those things spoke to me.

I want to go home at night and feel discomfort.

Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.

What about you? Are you happiest and saddest right now that you've ever been?" "Of course I am." "Why?" "Because nothing makes me happier and nothing makes me sadder than you.

Loneliness: there is no organ that can take it all.

If there was one thing she knew by then, by age twenty-two, it was that she had to get far away and stay away. Here in his world she was trapped in an intolerable corner, which seemed to grow tighter and tighter each year. And now no place in America felt right.

He looked at her. There was something about her. When he was with her he felt happy, excited; when he was apart from her he found himself wanting to be with her again.

They connected on every level - mental, philosophical, emotional. But she couldn't have him, not all of him.

There were the endless birthday nights and New Year's Eves of just you in your bed and no one else. There was the welling up at weddings, the glittery eye-prick, when all the couples would get up to dance. Sometimes it felt like your heart was crazed with cracks like your grandmother's old saucers. Sometimes the sight of a Saturday afternoon couple laughing in a park would splinter it completely.

So, he feels now, that he doesn't have to try. And you want him more than you ever have before.

Dar a inceput sa te plictiseasca traiul in mijlocul panzei de fantezii pe care ai tesut-o de-a lungul timpului. Caci un barbat adevarat s-a prins in ea si a inceput sa traga de firele ei de matase.

Russia! Russia! What is the incomprehensible, mysterious force that draws me to you? Why does your mournful song, carried along your whole length and breadth from sea to sea, each and re-echo incessantly in my ears? What is there in that song? What is it that calls, and sobs, and clutches at my heart? What are those sounds that caress me so poignantly, that go straight to my soul and twine about my heart? Russia! What do you want from me? What is that mysterious, hidden bond between us?

En sus ojos se leía a menudo el ardiente deseo de tomar parte en alguna conversación interesante o de juntarse a otro grupo, pero se retenía al pensar que aquello podía parecer excesivo por su parte o demasiado familiar, y que con ello rebajaría su dignidad. Y por eso permanecía eternamente solo, en la misma actitud silenciosa, emitiendo de cuando en cuando un sonido monótono, con lo cual llegó a pasar por un hombre de lo más aburrido.

All this has for me an indescribable charm, perhaps because I no longer see it, and because anything from which we are separated is pleasing to us.

My heart is beating as though it were waiting for something.

Ke?ke hiç olmasayd?n ?u dünyada, ke?ke sana hiç rastlamasayd?m, ke?ke canl? bir varl?k olacak yerde esinli bir ressam?n yaratt??? bir tablo olsayd?n. O zaman resminin önünden hiç ayr?lmaz, sonsuzcas?na sana bakard?m... öper, öperdim seni. Sonsuz güzel bir dü? gibi seni ya?ar, seni solur ve... mutlu olurdum.

I would portray how, in one of these low clay cottages, a dark-browed town girl with quivering young breasts tosses on her solitary bed dreaming of a hussar's mustache and spurs while moonlight laughs on her cheeks.