Quotes About Yearning

The sea was a landscape of longing, she thought, a landscape of ceaseless change.

I want her back" I said "I want HIM back"~Charlie

Heroin is a stand-in, a stop-gap, a mask, for what we believe is missing. Like the "objects" seen by Plato's man in a cave, dope is the shadow cast by cultural movements we can't see directly.

When your love for a person is so profound that it's part of who you are, then the absence of the person becomes part of your DNA, your bones, and your skin.

No one had ever wanted him before. He wished he could take her in his arms, in front of her sisters

she felt tangled in a net of grief. Her father was dead, and her mother had turned her away. My soulmate would save me, she thought. He would see me, and I would feel more solid. But this brought a fresh sadness, because if she ever did meet this man, he would never have known her father. Sylvie studied the ceiling for most of the night. She felt tears deep inside her, but they couldn't seem to find a way out. She still hadn't cried.

sense the enormous beauty that lay on the far side of those walls.

William wanted to cup his hands again, to hold close his love for his wife, to hold close her love for him.

She would wait, forever if necessary, for a man who saw the expanse of her, the

She would wait, forever if necessary, for a man who saw the expanse of her, the way her father had.

own parents had wanted to leave every room he was in.

The beauty of her countenance haunting his imagination, and the touching accents of her voice still vibrating on his heart, he descended to the shore below her residence, pleasing himself with the consciousness of being near her, though he could no longer behold her; and sometimes hoping that he might again see her, however distantly, in a balcony of the house, where the silk awning seemed to invite the breeze from the sea.

Sentirai il tuono e mi rammenterai, penserai: desiderava la bufera... Sarà una striscia di cielo accesa di rosso, e il cuore come allora in fiamme. E ciò accadrà nel giorno moscovita in cui abbandonerò per sempre la città, muoverò verso il bramato riparo, lasciando in mezzo a voi ancora la mia ombra.

If you can't give me love and peace,Then give me bitter fame.

You will hear thunder and remember me, And think: "she wanted storms.

I'm not weeping, I'm not complaining, Happiness is not for me.

Why is it that you still beguile me – As wind, stone, bird – and all the likes? Why is that you smile on me – With sudden summer lightning strikes?

I don't long for anyone, But I don't want, don't want, don't want To know how they kiss each other.

I asked him then: 'What are you after?' 'To be in hell with you,' he said.

How many poems did I not write? They hang in the air around me, a weird choir, And some day May suffocate me...

If I can't have love, if I can't find peace, give me a bitter glory.

Once taken by her, you glowed And you drank her poisons, content. Because all the stars seemed to grow, And fields had a different scent, Autumn fields.

I don't know if you're alive or dead. Can you on earth be sought, or only when the sunsets fade be mourned secretly in my thought? All is for you: the daily prayer, the sleepless heat at night, and of my verses, the white flock, and of my eyes, the blue fire. No-one was more cherished, no-one tortured me more, not even the one who betrayed me to torture, not even the one who caressed me and forgot.

All's taken away: my love and my power. The body, thrown into city it hates, Finds no joy in the sunlight. With every hour The blood grows colder in my veins.