Quotes About Yearning

Oh, God, Becky, I want you, he said shakily. I must get you back home quickly, love. It is dangerous to be alone like this.

Of course she wished to go. How dreadful it would be not to be there but to be wondering every moment what was happening, imagining with whom he was walking and talking.

She wished that somewhere in her future there could be a man who would make the world an exciting place in which to live.

He had taken Elizabeth into his arms and held her very close to him. I love you, he had said against her hair, and I shall come for you just as soon as I may.

He had glanced hastily around, but there were other riders in sight. He had had to content himself with lifting her hand, drawing her glove down to bare her wrist, and pressing his lips to the pulse there.

He had vaulted into the saddle and ridden down the driveway away from the sea and the cliffs, and away from her, without a backward glance. She had watched him, an ache in her heart, until a line of trees finally hid him from view.

And I wanted so much to be able to set the world at your feet. I never wanted anything but you, she almost whispered.

Oh, yes, she said, surrendering to the longing within her, make me forget, William. Make me love you.

You are a remarkably attractive woman, Elizabeth, and six years has been a long time. I should not say no to an invitation to your bed.

He wanted desperately to love her, to be able to make her happy, to be a family with her and their children. He wanted the dream—home, wife, children, love, happiness. Not fleetingly—gone almost before he could grasp it, darkness at its heart—but forever.

Damn him! Damn Robert Denning, Marquess of Hetherington. How could she be expected to sleep peacefully knowing that he was under the same roof? Was he sleeping dreamlessly? Or was he restless too, troubled perhaps by his conscience? He did not appear to have one, but perhaps it troubled him in his sleep. The thought was somehow comforting.

He should have stayed away. The memories were going to be very sweet, it was true. They were also going to be unbearable.

And she gazed upward into the face of all her dreams. Not just Piers' face, though that too. Oh, yes, that too. But the face of her dream. Piers wanting her and loving her. Focused entirely on her. Asking her the question with the one whispered word and with eyes that pleaded and were not quite sure of her answer.

And he was Robert, the man she had always loved, the only man who had ever touched her, the only man she had ever wanted. And wanted now with a searing passion.

But it was an ordeal worse than any she had yet experienced in the days since she heard he was coming home. To see him and to hear him was bad enough. To touch him was unendurable—that slim yet surprisingly strong hand that had so often held hers in the past, so often touched and caressed her.

She had to get away. She could not stay this close to him and yet this far away from him for much longer.

I will treat it as a fantasy. A romantic fantasy. I will make you fall in love with me all over again.

He looked as if he would dearly love to escape, Henry thought as she too stood momentarily alone at the other side of the ballroom.

It was a seductive idea that he might not come until tomorrow after all, but on the whole she hoped he would come today so that this waiting, this suspense, might be at an end.

This is the man who loves you, darling, who has loved you for six long and lonely years. Open your eyes and look at me, love.

When had he become the sun and moon to her, the very air she breathed?

hoped for and had been given as a priest for everything he yearned for and desired as a man.

Dünyadaki hüznün yar?s? seni istemeyen birini istemektir

I'd been in love dozens of times, but it was always the unrequited kind.