Quotes About Yearning

She told her father Mr. Abram Colhard that she did not like it at all being one being living then. He never said anything. She was afraid then, she was one needing charming stories and happy telling of them and not having that thing she was always trembling.

Yes, indeed, I'm so much looking

I want to go to the World Cup. I want to go to the Masters. I want to go... anywhere.

When I watched the World Cup, I had the feeling that I wanted to be there.

I would obviously love to go to the World Cup.

The name of my ailment was longing, and it was not cured till I finally went to the department store and counted out the money in small coins before the dismayed clerk. When I came to the house, I held up the instrument before the eyes of the astonished household.

Timing is irrelevant when it comes to desire.

I am tired, beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little ink drops, and posting it. And I scald alone, here, under the fire of the great moon.

Landscape is my mistress - 'tis to her I look for fame.

It took a toll when I couldn't see my mom as much.

I wondered if he ever thought of me, and hated the pang I felt when I told myself he didn't.

Missing rubs the soul raw.

So if we could not have love, my husband and I, then at least I could have alchemy.

Obsessed? I don't know what the word means. I know there were times when I couldn't think of anything else. I used to stay in every weeknight in the hope that he might get free and call me. It felt like I had a disease I didn't want to get rid of. I suppose that's a definition of obsession, yes.

I'm glad that your work is at 291 — when I'm with it it seems to prop me up — makes me forget so much that is hideous — and a deep reverence for something very wonderful invariably over comes me — That's what you give me. The place breathes peace & space — human throb — a great yearning — a great closeness —

You've found that there is something that can make you feel, and make you feel present: sex. Not the routine, dusk-and-dawn sex of a trusted, established relationship, but illicit, dangerous sex. Sex that is novel and leaves you sore; that is experienced in the gaps between your mundane, moral life; that is strange and breathless and addictive.

At night, in the garden, it occurs to you that it might have been your heart that left you as you reached the capital. Your heart might not have travelled well, closed up in its cavity, quivering and gnawing at the bars of your ribcage during the commute. It might be tracking north now, along edgelands, past spoil-heaps and stands of pylons, under motorway passes, back to the higher ground. Back to him.

Red, brown, yellow, green, black. Five colours to say everything that could be said. And what Cy suddenly wanted, more than anything in the world just then, what he wanted was that missing blue, primary and resistant to the trade. Blue that was unstable and misbehaved when left in skin. Blue like the sea that had taken his father. Blue, for his mother's sake, and for the true colour of every bereaved and bloodless heart when it is collapsing.

Have you ever thought, thought your heart would break? Wished you could cut open your chest tear it out to stop the pain? Why don´t you riot like everyone else. I don't care, life's too long. You can have any man you want. I want him...except him. Always suspected the world didn't smell of fresh paint and flowers. Smells of piss and human sweat If there could have been more moments like this.

I've never in my life had a problem giving another person what they want. But no one's ever been able to do that for me. No one touches me, no one gets near me. But now you've touched me somewhere so fucking deep I can't believe and I can't be that for you. Because I can't find you.

I sing without hope on the boundary

Because love by its nature desires a future.

I am jealous of my sleeping lover and cover his induced unconsciousness.

Long before I had the chance to adore all of you, I adored the bits of you I could see.