Quotes About Yearning

We pursue whatever we pursue out of torment — a need for torment. Our very quest for salvation is a torment, the subtlest, the best camoulaged of all.

What is more fruitful than the worst, for the man who knows how to desire it? For it is not suffering which liberates, but the desire to suffer.

The same feeling of not belonging, of futility, wherever I go: I pretend interest in what matters nothing to me, I bestir myself mechanically or out of charity, without ever being caught up, without ever being somewhere. What attracts me is elsewhere, and I don't know where that elsewhere is.

What shall we tell the blind woman in Rilke's poem who lamented that 'I can no longer live with the sky upon me'? Would it comfort her if we told her we can no longer live with the earth underneath our feet?

All the same I keep on looking for someone incomprehensible who won't understand me either, because I have a terrible thirst for brotherhood

Irrespective of any external, regulatory force, our capacity for feeling is in itself an insatiable and bottomless abyss.

Qué crimen o qué dolor es un beso cuando es sólo un beso!

Cavaliere, - mormorò. - T'amo ancora! - Il Corsaro aveva mandato un grido di gioia suprema e si era stretta al cuore la giovane donna.

Non siamo più ai tempi dei Pizarro, degli Almagro, dei Cortez, i grandi conquistatori degli imperi americani. Che disgrazia non essere nati due o trecento anni fa! Io e Sandokan avremmo forse conquistata anche l'Africa intera.

Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you--haunt me then. The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe--I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!

If you ever looked at me once with what I know is in you, I would be your slave.

I'm wearying to escape into that glorious world, and to be always there: not seeing it dimly through tears, and yearning for it through the walls of an aching heart: but really with it, and in it.

And I pray one prayer--I repeat it till my tongue stiffens--Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living! You said I killed you--haunt me, then!...Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!

I have no pity! The more the worms writhe, the more I yearn to crush out their entrails! It is a moral teething; and I grind with greater energy in proportion to the increase of pain.

Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,How could I seek the empty world again?

Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.

The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care

A dreary void, The leafless desert of the mind, The waste of feelings unemployed.'" "But why not employ them?" said Rose, who was not learned in Byron; "you have a home." "Such as it is." "And relations.

This is my letter to the WorldThat never wrote to Me—The simple News that Nature told—With tender Majesty.

I miss him in so many ways, but right now I miss him in the way you always miss someone when you're single among a room full of couples.

I miss us too. I always have and I probably always will. Sometimes there are no happy endings. No matter what, I'll be losing something, someone. But maybe that's what it all comes down to. Love, not as a surge of passion, but as a choice to commit to something, someone, no matter what obstacles or temptations stand in the way. And maybe making that choice again and again, day in and day out, year after year,says more about love than never having a choice to make at all.

I miss us, too. I always have, and probably always will

The thing I never understood about love is that it can't be quelled, like lust can. With love, if you follow its call, if you give in to it, it just gets worse. The more you have, the deeper you go, the more you need.

Distance between us. That's what I need. Otherwise, the whole last year of avoiding Declan—of forcing myself to let him go—was pointless.