Quotes About Yearning

Just when I seemed about to learn ! Where is the thread now ? Off again ! The old trick ! Only I discern ? Infinite passion and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn.

Man's reach much exceed his grasp, or what is heaven for?

But to have seen thee, and to die so soon!

My heart is sair-I dare na tell, My heart is sair for Somebody.

Gin a body meet a body Coming thro' the rye, Gin a body kiss a body— Need a body cry?

Eat my heart Chew it hard Swallow my soul, too

He looks at me fondly. I know that the look doesn't have love in it. Or even lust. I still wonder about love or sex or lust. I saw lust in his eyes when he looked at that girl on the sidewalk … I love him, anyway. I love him because he's kind to me and he doesn't want my body, doesn't want to feel me or touch me, like all the others … and maybe after a while he might look at me with more than fondness, will kiss me sweetly, tenderly.

The room seemed to have lost a certain essence that he could not pin down. Then knew suddenly what it was. The room was—lonely. For the first time in his life, he knew what loneliness was like. Until that moment the word had been meaningless to him.

Sleep was like sex. The less you had, the more you craved it

How can I wear the harness of toil And sweat at the daily round, While in my soul forever The drums of Pictdom sound?

We ran as if to meet the moon.

For I have had too much Of apple-picking:I am overtired Of the great harvest I myself desired.

I dwell with a strangely aching heart In that vanished abode there far apart

A poem is never a put-up job, so to speak. It begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It is never a thought to begin with.

Possessing what we still were unpossessed by, Possessed by what we now no more possessed.

Start with a big fat lump in your throat. Start with a profound sense of wrong, a deep homesickness, a crazy lovesickness, and run with it. If you imagine less, less will be what you undoubtedly deserve. Do what you love. And don't stop until you get what you love.

From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire.

Far as we aim our signs to reach, Far as we often make them reach, Across the soul-from-soul abyss, There is an aeon-limit set Beyond which they are doomed to miss. Two souls may be too widely met. That sad-with-distance river beach With mortal longing may beseech; It cannot speak as far as this.

Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all, Behind low boughs the trees let down outside; And the sweet pang it cost me not to call And tell you that I saw does still abide. But 'tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof, For the wood wakes, and you are here for proof.

The melancholy of having to count souls Where they grow fewer and fewer every year Is extreme where they shrink to none at all. It must be I want life to go on living.

The Shadow. It cannot be grasped. Chase your shadow and it will, flee; turn your back on it and it will follow you. It is also a person's dark side, the thing that makes them mysterious. After they have given us pleasure, the shadow of their withdrawal makes us yearn for their return, much as clouds make us yearn for the sun.

A man grows bored with a woman, no matter how beautiful; he yearns for different pleasures, and for adventure.

Seduction is a form of deception, but people want to be led astray, they yearn to be seduced. If they didn't, seducers would not find so many willing victims. Get rid of any moralizing tendencies, adopt the seducer's playful philosophy, and you will find the rest of the process easy and natural.

as one by one the scents and sounds and names of long-forgotten places come gradually back and beckon to us.