Quotes About Yearning

What I long for with a deep ache inside me is sacred music. I long for the Fauré Requiem, for the Haydn "Mass in Time of War," for some pure celestial music that could lift me above myself, into that sphere where great art lives, beyond what man can be in himself, the intimation of the sacred—what cannot be dirtied or smudged by wickedness or by anger, which no threat can touch.

I am starved for tenderness and that is what is the matter with me and has been the matter with me for months

if people know nothing about love they will always make it into a sexual matter. The limit of what I longed for with X was simply to lie down somewhere beside her and to hold her hand - Why that? Because words were not a possible means of deep exchange between us, because I longed so to rest in her, to believe too that she might rest in me.

When I talk about solitude I am really talking also about making space for that intense, hungry face at the window, starved cat, starved person.

This bed yawns beneath the weight of our absent selves.

Cotton rows crisscross the world And dead-tired nights of yearning Thunderbolts on leather strops And all my body burning Sugar cane reach up to God And every baby crying Shame a blanket of my night And all my days are dying

He watched her every move and when she left the room, his eyes allowed her reluctantly to go.

There is a true yearning to respond to the singing river and wise rock.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing. The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom. from Caged Bird

Excitement is a drug, and people whose lives are filled with violence are always wondering where the next fix is coming from

dreams are petted, like cherished lap dogs misunderstood and loved too well

Each time, my search for true love Leads me to the gates of hell.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream his wings are clipped and his feed are tied so his opens his throat to sing. The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant ill for the caged bird sings of freedom.

I believe that there lives a burning desire in the most sequestered private heart of every American, a desire to belong to a great counter.

He could not make Arkansas fit his soul's desolation.

The caged bird sings with A fearful trill of things unknown But longed for still and his Tune is heard on the distant hill For the caged bird sings of freedom.

I wanted to be a woman, but that seemed to me to be a world to which I was to be eternally refused entrance.

I hate to lose something," then she bent her head, "even a dime, I wish I was dead. I can't explain it. No more to be said. 'Cept I hate to lose something.

When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an attic, Gatherings of days too few

Maybe I didn't always know what I was missing, but it was you. Always you.

Is there something wrong?" he asked. She gave a short negative motion with her head. And then words, so sweet, like a cool northern breeze blowing off the lake. "You could hold me now." It was almost his undoing. "Ah baby.

He'd never get over her. He knew that without hesitation or doubt. He loved her. As deeply as it was possible to love another person. And God, he wanted her. Every day. In hit life. As much a part of him as he would be of her.

I want babies too, he said huskily. Daughters as beautiful as you are.

Tell me, warrior, how soon can we do this again?