Quotes About Yearning

And you who seek to know Me, know that the seeking and yearning will avail you not, unless you know the Mystery: for if that which you seek, you find not within yourself, you will never find it without. For behold, I have been with you from the beginning, and I am That which is attained at the end of desire.

In fact, this could be the most important thing we ever learn about God– that he yearns for relationship with us... We see him as strong and powerful, but not as needing us, vulnerable to us, yearning to be desired.

The very fact that we long for the change we do is a sign that we are meant to have it.

It makes a mess of many good relationships. You know all about this. No matter how much Adam pours into your aching soul, it's never enough. He cannot fill you. Maybe he's pulled away because he senses you're asking him to fill you. Every woman has to reckon with this - this ache she tries to get her man to fill. In order to learn how to love him, you must first stop insisting that he fill you.

Ho guardato in alto, oltre le insegne illuminate e, obliqua su un grattacielo, c'era la luna. Le ho detto: Cosa ci fa una ragazza come te in un posto come questo?

E lei ora desidera. È uscito del letargo della sua rassegnata solitudine, ha scoperto la fame del suo cuore, sa che la mela è proibita, ma desidera. Non avrà più pace, né dieta. [...] Soffrirà, il suo cuore, lo stomaco e le viscere andranno in subbuglio, il suo istinto di Homo erectus potrà essere temprato, ma non vinto. La mela è caduta dall'albero del destino.

Lei vaga in una grande stanza con una porta in fondo, l'uscita dalla sua solitudine. Qualche volta vede la porta ma fa finta di niente, continua a vagare e lamentarsi a dire a se steso, starò sempre solo. Io invece vago in una stanza senza porte. Posso tutt'al più sognare una porta.

Mi ha carezzato i capelli e il mio cuore ha martellato così forte che ho pensato: se mi bacia muoio. Purtroppo mi ha risparmiato.

We built a world of words and yet none satisfy now.

Love? It's when you don't give a thought to all the ifs and want-to's in the world. It's when if all the fires of hell were between you, you'd walk in them gladly to be with him, and sing with joy at your own burnin' if only his kiss was on your mouth.

It's so hard to explain what the dead really want. Not to be alive again, heavens no, never that: a passenger buckled into that depreciating vehicle of the body, that cramped one-seater with its structural flaws and piss-poor mileage, its failures and betrayals, its worn, nonfunctioning, irreplaceable parts.

I had no one to hold. What if this was my life, attending weddings, sitting in pews, listening to I do's, perpetually wishing for someone to share my life with? Where the fuck was the alcohol?

I hated that I let him touch my sweat, that he knew how I kissed. I wanted to collect my things from him, but the things were only moments.

Vane watched her reaction from under heavy lids, watched flaring passion light her eyes. Sparks of pure gold flashed in the hazel depths as he gently kneaded, then sent his fingers gliding over her silken skin. He knew he should kiss her, distract her, from what came next- but the compulsion to witness, to know her reaction as she learned what he would do, as he filled his senses with her, waxed strong.

You don't have to say anything. You just have to accept. Just have to stop resisting…" He breathed the last words as his lips lowered to hers. "And let what we both want, simply be.

The warm stillness within the room was broken only by the rustling of sheets, and soft, urgent murmurs. Then the silence gave way to soft moans, groans, breathless pants, desperate gasps. Culminating in a soft, piercingly sweet scream, dying, sobbing, into a deep guttural groan.

I wanted you to kiss me, you know." Damned impertinent and overbold female. "I know.

Clare, there's no chance in hell I would ever believe you're frigid." Her heart began to race. "No?" His gaze went to her mouth, and then back to her eyes. "Not with the way you look at me." She swallowed, her body vibrating at the intensity of his gaze, and the weight of his hand as he caressed her neck. "How do I look at you?" she whispered, her voice too breathy. "Exactly how I want you to.

ten years of whorehouse joy I'm alone now in the mountains the pines are like a jail the wind scratches my skin Ikky

My heart weighs heavy from all of the books I have not yet written

And I closed my eyes because I wanted to know nothing but her arms.

I can't think again. Not ever again. I don't know if you've ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that.

Nobody felt sad as long as we could postpone tomorrow with more nostalgia.

I just wish that God or my parents or Sam or my sister or someone would just tell me what's wrong with me. Just tell me how to be different in a way that makes sense. To make this all go away.