Quotes About Yearning

I still think the greatest hurt isn't to lose love, it's the regret of never having it. To have never felt love, that would be true tragedy.

The sad, fucking truth was that no matter who you are, you never, ever, get your fill.

with this bullet lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because it's all I have, because I'm hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own. I'll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this bullet inside me 'cause I couldn't make you love me and I'm tired of pulling your teeth.

You're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling, and you're trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you don't even have a name for.

You wanted happiness, I can't blame you for that, and maybe a mouth sounds idiotic when it blathers on about joy but tell me you love this, tell me you're not miserable.

We still groped for each other on the backstairs or in parked cars as the road around us grew glossy with ice and our breath softened the view through the glass already laced with frost, but more frequently I was finding myself sleepless, and he was running out of lullabies. But damn if there isn't anything sexier than a slender boy with a handgun, a fast car, a bottle of pills.

The way you slam your body into mine reminds me I'm alive, but monsters are always hungry, darling.

You play along, because you want to die for love, you always have.

You wanted to think of yourself as someone who did these kinds of things. You wanted to be in love and he happened to get in the way.

He could build a city. Has a certain capacity. There's a niche in his chest where a heart would fit perfectly and he thinks if he could just maneuver one into place – well then, game over.

You just wanted to prove there was one safe place, just one safe place where you could love him. You have not found that place yet.

And no one can ever figure out what you want, and you won't tell them, and you realize the person who loves you isn't the one you thought it would be, and you don't trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy. And the boy who loves you the wrong way is filthy. And the boy who loves you in the wrong way keeps weakening. You thought if you handed over your body he'd do something interesting.

We're shooting the scene where I swallow your heart and you make me spit it up again. I swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth. You swallow my heart and flee, but I want it back now, baby. I want it back.

I hope it's love. I'm trying really hard to make it love.

I'm saying your name in the grocery store, I'm saying your name on the bridge at dawn. Your name like an animal covered with frost, your name like a music that's been transposed, a suit of fur, a coat of mud, a kick in the pants, a lungful of glass, the sails in wind and the slap of waves on the hull...

The entire history of human desire takes about seventy minutes to tell. Unfortunately, we don't have that kind of time.

There is an empty space next to you in the backseat of the station wagon. Make it the shape of everything you need. Now say hello.

The enormity of my desire disgusts me.

It should be enough. To make something beautiful should be enough. It isn't. It should be.

Here is the cake, and here is the fork, and here's the desire to put it inside us, and then the question behind every question: What happens next?

In the dream I don't tell anyone, you put your head in my lap.

You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you that he loves you, but he loves you.

Did he find that one last tender place to sink his teeth in?

You just wanted to prove that there was one safe place, just one safe place where you could love him. You have not found that place yet.