Quotes About Yearning

All I've ever wanted was to be near you.

He smiled in a way that made me want to kiss him right on the spot. Or the lips. Whichever was closer.

Of course her dumb Lab's going to do whatever it takes to retrieve the ball. What he craves more than freedom is companionship.

Oh yes, Sean Kowalski. Your amazing kisses have made all rational thought fly out of my besotted brain. If only you could fill me with your magic penis, I know we'll fall madly in love and live happily ever after.

You. I want you and I don't want to be a luxury. I want you to need me. I want you to not be able to concentrate because you're thinking about me. I want you to reach for your phone because you thought of something you have to share with me. I want you to not even be able to breathe at the thought of never seeing me again, because that's how I feel about you, Paige. I want to be a necessity.

I want to kiss you because it's the only damn thing I can think about. Every time I see you, I think about kissing you. Every time somebody says your name, I think about kissing you. Every single night when my head hits the pillow and I close my eyes, I think about kissing you.

There was no way I could forget, since I've done nothing but think about it since I got out of your car last night. I thought about kissing you for the rest of the night. I dreamed about it. And kissing you was the first thing I thought about when I opened my eyes this morning.

Please, Jesus, I want him to be my son.

Because Christmas did something to the world at large and to individuals in particular. It crystallized all your hopes and fears. It made you yearn and wish and dream. And no matter how hard you tried—it made you realize all the things you were missing in life.

She shook her head, but it was too late, and he was pulling her into his arms and bending his head to hers and she supposed that she could have stopped him. Should have stopped him. But no power in the world could have prevented her lips from parting in a sharp little gasp of remembered pleasure as he drove his mouth down like a man who had been starved of kisses.

You look like my every fantasy come to life,' he whispered, his voice deepening. 'How?' she whispered back. 'Wicked. Abandoned. And…' She heard his hesitation, was intrigued by it. 'And what?' 'Here,' he admitted. 'Now. On my bed after too long. Waiting for me to make love to you over and over again.

If you didn't yearn for something, you wouldn't be disappointed- and anyway, relationships were a waste of time.

If she had known all that right from the beginning, then why hadn't she stopped? Why give into something which you knew instinctively was doomed on so many levels? Because human nature wasn't like that. It made you reach out and grab at the unreachable.

Thoughts need words. Words need a voice. I love the smell of my mother's hair after she washes it. I love the feel of the scratchy stubble on my father's face before he shaves. But I've never been able to tell them.

It's like I live in a cage with no door and no key. And I have no way to tell someone how to get me out.

How do they do it, the ones who make love without love? How do they come to the come to the come to the God come to the still waters, and not love the one who came there with them, light rising slowly as steam off their joined skin?

Minute by minute, I do not get up and just go to him—

My body may never learn not to yearn for that one

And slowly he starts to seem more far away, he seems to waft, drift at a distance

and not to have lost him when he loved me, and not to have lost someone who could have loved me for life.

But if feels as if he's not here— though he's here, it feels as if, for me, there's no one there

And to live in those rooms, where one of his smiles might emerge, like something almost from another place, another time, another set of creatures, was to feel blessed, and to be held in mysteriousness, and a little in mourning.

the flesh no one seems now to care to touch.

My mother's people came here yearning to sing to their God, to breathe free, men and women attacked by their landlords, who called them wretched refuse, teeming with vermin. They'd pushed off from that shore, homeless on the ocean, through calm and tempest