Quotes About Yearning

I still love you. And sometimes, my friend, the love that I have, and can't give to you, crushes the breath from my chest. Sometimes, even now, my heart is drowning in a sorrow that has no stars without you, and no laughter, and no sleep.

Nothing in the world is so soft and pleasing to the touch, as the skin of a woman's thigh. No flower, feather or fabric, can match that velvet whisper of flesh. No matter how unequal they may be in any other ways, all women, old and young, fat and thin, beautiful and ugly, have that perfection. It's a great part of the reason why men hunger to possess women, and so often convince themselves that they do possess them: the thigh, that touch.

Waiting for nothing, that is what kills the heart of a man, isn't it?

Love unlived is a sin against life, and mourning is one of the ways we love. I felt it then, and I let it happen, the longing for him to return. The power in his eyes, and the pride when I did something he admired, and the love in his laugh. The longing: the longing for the lost.

I sat near enough to hear the happiness, but far enough away not to feel it.

resentment is unmet need or desire

Waiting for nothing, that is what kills the heart of a man, isn't it?

It was a measure of just how lost and lonely I was, in my exile, that I looked forward to fighting him.

Sometimes, even now, my heart is drowning in a sorrow that has no stars without you, and no laughter, and no sleep.

The sound of her voice and the sight of her face pulled all the air from my lungs, and set my heart thumping.

La droga tutto e nulla: ti prende tutto, e non ti lascia nulla. Ma il nulla che ti offre, il vuoto privo di sentimenti che ti elargisce, a volte è tutto ciò che desideri.

And every day I woke with a dream or a thought of her. Every night I slept with the knife of regret in my chest.

If so much love could vanish into the earth and speak no more, smile no more, then love was nothing.

In its essence, the longing for family, and the ravenousness that the loss of family creates in us, isn't just for belonging: it's for the grace that abides in serving those we love.

Her thick, black plait of hair was the rope by which a man might climb to heaven.

the longer I went without it, the more important it seemed to become.

my heart put a wishing star in my eyes for them.

Yes, Lin, you want me? Prabaker said, popping through the doorway from his eavesdropping post outside.

Drag our shadowed crosses into the hope of another night. Push our brave hearts into the promise of a new day. With love: the passionate search for a truth other than our own. With longing: the pure, ineffable yearning to be

Don't you have someone waiting for you somewhere, or someone you should go to?

I was still angry, and hungry.

Whatever it was, I meant to take her up on it. I meant to go there, and look for her. But

and my heart was as clean and hungry for promises as a monsoon morning in the gardens of Malabar.

But his face had that hollow look, as if there was something gone... you know that look. The inward focus. Distantly attentive to the home you're missing, or the someone you're missing. That look that a bird has when it turns it dry reptilian eye on you. That look that doesn't see you because the mind is filled up with someone it would rather see.