Quotes About Yearning

I didn't dare look at Conrad. I was afraid my love for him and my need for him to say yes would be written on my face like a poem.

for belly, conrad is the sun. and when the sun comes out, the stars disappear.

When she leaned forward to mess with the AC vents, her hair brushed against my leg and it was really soft. It made remember all over again. It made it hard to stay pissed and keep her at arm's length the way I'd planned. It was pretty near damn impossible. When I was near her, I just wanted to grab her and hold her and kiss the shit out of her. Maybe then she'd forget about my asshole of a brother.

I could survive for months, years, on a crush.

His eyes were these bleak and empty abysses, like sockets. There was nothing there. The boy I thought I knew so well was gone. He looked so lost sitting there. I felt that old lurch, that gravitational pull, that desire to inhabit him—like wherever he was in this world, I would know where to find him, and I would do it. I would find him and take him home. I would take care of him, just like Susannah wanted.

I don't know if i'll ever get you out of my system, not completely. I have… this feeling. That you'll always be there. Here.

This is the moment I realize I don't love him, that I haven't for a while. That maybe I never did. Because he's right there for the taking: I could kiss him again; I could make him mine. But I don't want him. I want someone else.

Everybody had somebody but me.

When someone's been gone a long time, at first you save up all the things you want to tell them. You try to keep track of everything in your head. But it's like trying to hold on to a fistful of sand: all the little bits slip out of your hands, and then you're just clutching air and grit.

It doesn't matter if I like him or not, because he doesn't like me back.

I turn on my side and close my eyes. What must it be like, to have a boy like you so much he cries for you? And not just any boy. Josh. Our Josh. To answer her question: yes, I think I have been in real love. Just once, though. With Josh. Our Josh.

And now I just want to not exist.

I wished I could stay forever, in this moment. Like in one of those plastic snowballs, one little moment frozen in time.

I'm standing there in the open door and the thought flies in my head, so quick, so unexpected, I can't stop myself from thinking it: If you were mine, I would never have broken up with you, not in a million years.

Do you like Cam?" the girl asked me casually. I wondered how she knew him—I thought he'd been a nobody just like me. "I barely even know him," I told her, and her face relaxed. She was relieved. I recognized that look in her eyes—dreamy and hopeful. It must have been the way I looked when I used to talk about Conrad, used to try to think of ways to insert his name into conversation. It made me sad for her, for me.

I could survive for months, years, on a crush. It was like food. It could sustain me.

Peter's gone away on his training weekend. It's only been one day and I'm already longing for him the way I long for Christmas in July. Peter is my cocoa in a cup, my red mittens, my Christmas morning feeling. He

I wish we could see Hamilton.

My mom adored her. She called Belly her secret daughter. She looked forward to seeing her all year. Steven, even though he gave her a hard time, he was really protective of her. Everyone took care of Belly, she just didn't know it. She was too busy looking at Conrad.

That I miss her. I really miss her. She's only been gone for two months, but it feels like longer. And it also feels like it just happened, like yesterday.

The old pull, the tide drawing me back in. I kept getting caught in this current—first love, I mean. First love kept making me come back to this, to him. He still took my breath away, just being near him. I had been lying to myself the night before, thinking I was free, thinking I had let him go. It didn't matter what he said or did, I'd never let him go. I

Do you know what it's like to like someone so much you can't stand it and know that they'll never feel the same way?

In the whole history of my letters, of my liking boys, not once has a boy liked me back at the same time as I liked him. It was always me alone, longing after a boy, and that was fine, that was safe

It's torturous standing there in front of him, waiting—for what, I don't know.