Quotes About Yearning

We know well only what we are deprived of.

We all engage in things forbidden and yearn for things denied.

En ce temps que j'ai dit devant, Sur le Noël, morte saison, Que les loups se vivent de vent Et qu'on se tient en sa maison, Pour le frimas, près du tison, Me vint un vouloir de briser La très amoureuse prison Qui faisoit mon cÅ"ur débriser.

Might I, quavered Mary, might I have a bit of earth?

The mere fact that Lottie had come and gone away again made things seem a little worse-just as perhaps prisoners feel a little more desolate after visitors come and go, leaving them behind.

She is always starving for new books to gobble

I don't want you to give me anything, said Sara. I want your books- I want them! And her eyes grew big and her chest heaved.

Sara put her hand up to her forehead, and her mouth trembled. She spoke as if she were in a dream. And I was at Miss Minchin's all the while, she half whispered. Just on the other side of the wall.

Might I," quavered Mary, "might I have a bit of earth?

And as she lay and listened, it was as if she were not only listening but waiting for something. She did not know at all what she was waiting for, but waiting she was.

If I lived here,...I have a feeling this place would take me.

He's already tan, and leaning on the rail in his yellow linen shirt, with the pure glory of Venice racing behind him, I think he looks like someone I'd like to run off with, if I already hadn't.

After his kisses and hugs it feels like without them my body will fall apart into pieces.

If you were a mermaid, you said, If you were a mermaid, I was the sea.

No matter where I am, I am always loving you.

I wanted him to hold me, to take care of me. To make the pain dissolve away. I know that this was part of what had ruined everything but I wanted it once more anyway.

I want to be untouchable and beautiful and completely dead inside.

He kissed her. A kiss about apple pie a la mode with the vanilla creaminess melting in the pie heat. A kiss about chocolate, when you haven't eaten chocolate in a year. A kiss about palm trees speeding by, trailing pink clouds when you drive down the Strip sizzling with champagne. A kiss about spotlights fanning the sky and the swollen sea spilling like tears all over your legs.

I wish I wasn't a girl who needed so much but a little free creature that slept in deserts and ran on clouds and lived on lilies.

Besides, secretly, without knowing it herself, she had been waiting for a Beast to go to.

I'd sit around dreaming that the boys I saw at shows or at work - the boys with silver earrings and big boots - would tell me I was beautiful, take me home and feed me Thai food or omelets and undress me and make love to me all night with the palm trees whispering windsongs about a tortured gleaming city and the moonlight like flame melting our candle bodies.

He said, You're so tiny, like a doll, you look like you might break. I wanted him to break me. Part of me did.

Same old boring boring story America can't stop telling itself. What is this sicko fascination? Every book and movie practically has to have a little, right? But why do you think all those runaways are on the streets tearing up their veins with junk and selling themselves so they can sleep in the gutter? What do you think the alternative was at home?

Everything was fine, but Weetzie wanted a baby. "How could you want one?" My Secret Agent Lover Man said. "There are way too many babies. And diseases. And nuclear accidents. And crazy psychos. We cant have a baby," he said.