Quotes About Yearning

held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see.

Think of it as if you were standing on one of those globes with a map on it — I always wanted one when I was a boy." "I understand," she said after a minute. "When you do that, you can feel the earth turn, can't you?" He nodded. "Yes. Otherwise it's all just mañana — waiting for the morning or the moon.

She laughed again, as if she said something very witty, and held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. That was a way she had.

Things are sweeter when they're lost. I know—because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly, Dot. And when I got it it turned to dust in my hands.

Il est possible que Daisy n'ait jamais rencontré l'amour — bien qu'il y ait dans sa voix, sa vraie voix je veux dire, quelque chose qui... [...] Il y a six semaines, et pour la première fois depuis des années, elle a entendu prononcer le nom de Gatsby. [...] Alors de cette voix, justement, sa vraie voix, elle a dit que c'était sans doute celui qu'elle avait connu autrefois.

Il regarda autour de lui avec une brusque violence, comme si le passé était là, tapi dans l'ombre de la maison, mais hors de portée. — Je ferais tout pour que les choses soient comme avant. Exactement comme avant.

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…. And one fine morning——

You want life to be a chain of flirtation with a man for every link. Want it to be one! You mean I've found it one.

The unfortunate part is that the only men who interest me at all are the totally ineligible ones.

You loved me too? he repeated.

Elle se leva dès qu'il fut sorti, s'approcha de Gatsby, leva son visage vers lui, l'embrassa sur les lèvres. — Je vous aime et vous le savez, murmura-t-elle.

Then the door opened and she came into the room - and it was as though everything in it suddenly blurred before his eyes. He had not remembered how beautiful she was, and he felt his face grow pale and his voice diminish to a poor sigh in his throat.

Oh, nothing--only I want sentiment, real sentiment--and I never find it.

Amory [softly, battle lost]: I love you. Rosalind: I love you--now.

Amory: Darling girl. [They kiss. Another pause and then she seizes his hand, covers it with kisses, and holds it to her breast.] Rosalind [sadly]: I love your hands, more than anything. I see them often when you're away from me--so tired; I know every line of them. Dear hands! [Their eyes meet for a second and then she begins to cry--a tearless sobbing.]

Lover! Lover! I can't do with you, and I can't imagine life without you.

She looks at him once more, with infinite longing, infinite sadness.

He stretched out his had desperately as if to snatch only a wisp of air, to save a fragment of the spot that she (Daisy) had made lovely for him. But it was all going by too fast now for his blurred eyes and he knew that he had lost that part of it, the freshest and the best, forever.

So he waited, listening for a moment loner to the tuning-fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips' touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete.

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter -tomorrow we will run faster, stetch out our arms further...And one fine morning-

He lit Daisy's cigarette from a trembling match, and sat down with her on a couch far across the room, where there was no light save what the gleaming floor bounced in from the hall.

Oh, it's so hard to write you what I really feel when I think about you so much; you've gotten to mean to me a dream that I can't put on paper any more.

A??k olduÄŸumu söyleyemem ama ona kar?? müÅŸfik bir merak uyanm??t? içimde.

Gatsby acreditava na luz verde, no futuro orgástico que, ano após ano, recua diante dos nossos olhos. Nessa altura iludiu-nos, mas não importa - amanhã correremos mais depressa, esticaremos mais os braços... E uma bela manhã...