Quotes About Yearning

Something draws you... An impatience with your own ignorance.

I was sayin' let me out of here before I was even born.

So where the fuck are you, Isaac? I can hear your breathing, I just need to see you so I can stop it.

The myth that we must have "time"—more time—in order to create is a myth that keeps us from using the time we do have. If we are forever yearning for "more," we are forever discounting what is offered.

There is just this dream, this feeling, this urge, this desire. There is seldom any real proof, but the dream lives on.

The myth that we must have time - more time - in order to create is a myth that keeps us from using the time we do have. If we are forever yearning for more, we are forever discounting what is offered.

A drought is a tearless time of grief.

Recuerdo que algún día yo le hablé de mi río y una como tormenta se agitó en sus estrañas. No sé si fue mi pecho que tembló de recuerdo o si fueron mis ojos que asomaron nostalgias. I remember a day when I spoke of my river and something like a storm stirred in his being. Was it my breast that trembled with the memory Was it nostalgia that showed through my eyes

I was a star spilled in your arms.

Como suena en mi alma la idea de una noche completa en tus brazos

Es algo de lo eterno al goce del minuto lo que tu empeño busca por la ruta encendida de los claros anhelos.

Va descalza la vida por la nube del mar desde que alzo hacia ti mi corazon sus vuelvas.

feel as if I'm visiting home in a dream, where everything yet nothing is the way it should be, where the best of what you have and what you wish for are briefly, tantalizingly united. Tealing

She hated that she was still so desperate for a glimpse of him, but it had been this way for years.

Suddenly it was too hard to be in his presence, too painful to know that he would belong to someone else.

She had been born for this man, and she had spent so many years trying to accept the fact that he had been born for someone else...

341 days seems like an eternity when you can't see people you love.

I don't believe in God, but I miss him.

There is a German word, Sehnsucht , which has no English equivalent; it means 'the longing for something'. It has Romantic and mystical connotations; C.S. Lewis defined it as the 'inconsolable longing' in the human heart for 'we know not what'. It seems rather German to be able to specify the unspecifiable. The longing for something - or, in our case, for someone.

You lose the world for a glance? Of course you do. That is what the world is for: to lose under the right circunstances.

Because at some point everyone wants to run away from their life. It's about the only thing human beings have in common

I loved her; we were happy; I miss her. She didn't love me; we were unhappy; I miss her.

Books are not life, however much we may wish they were

Not merely hope, but any burdensome yearning: ambition, hatred, love (especially love) - how rarely do our emotions meet the object they seem to deserve? How hopelessly we signal; how dark the sky; how big the waves. We are all lost at see, washed between hope and despair, hailing something that may never come to rescue us. Catastrophe has become art; but this is no reducing process. It is freeing, enlarging, explaining. Catastrophe has become art: that is, after all, what it is for.