Quotes About Yearning

I love the love of those who are far enough away, it becomes whatever I wish to believe it.

I knelt, and with the fervor of a lip unused to the cool breath of reason, told my love.

Now I am sober and there's only the hangover and the memory of love.

Clearly it is not the lovelorn sufferer who seeks solace in chocolate, but rather the chocolate-deprived individual, who, desperate, seeks in mere love a pale approximation of bittersweet euphoria.

How love the limb-loosener sweeps me away

I barely knew I had skin before I met you.

What did my fingers do before they held him? What did my heart do, with its love?

One night of love don't make up for six nights alone. But I'd rather have one than none Lord, cause I'm flesh and bone.

I think one of the most poignant things is unrequited love and loneliness.

Next to me, Saiman smiled. "We all want what we can't have, Kate. I want you, you want love, and he wants to break my neck.

I wonder love can have already set In dreams, when we've not met More times than I can number on one hand.

I would like to be Jupiter, and lie down in the firmament and make love to everybody.

his yellow eyes gazed at me possessively -- I wondered if he realized that the way he looked at me was far more intimate than copping a feel could ever be.

As the presence of those we love is as a double life, so absence, in its anxious longing and sense of vacancy, is as a foretaste of death.

O tender yearning, sweet hoping! The golden time of first love! The eye sees the open heaven, The heart is intoxicated with bliss; O that the beautiful time of young love Could remain green forever.

How I'd love, love, love, to dance with my Father again.

Sometimes we have only ten minutes to be with the love of our life and thousands of hours to spend thinking about them.

Over, over, there is a soft place in my heart for all that is over, no, for the being over, words have been my only loves, not many.

And you can't help but worry for them, love them, want for them - those who go on down the close, foetid galleries of time and space without you.

Somewhere there must one Made for this soul, to move it.

Love runs away from those chasing her, and those who run away, she throws herself on his neck.

I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip

But it is just two lovers, holding hands and in a hurry to reach their car, their locked hands a starfish leaping through the dark.

Perhaps a great love is never returned.