Quotes About Yearning

Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I'm gazing at a distant star. It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago. Maybe the star doesn't even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything. ?Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun

I would forfeit the very surety of my soul to be the man who brings that look upon your face.

I think I loved her from the first moment I saw her. Before that, I loved her, too. Before I even knew she existed outside the realm of my dreams.

perhaps mortals are not formed for fairy bliss?

Nothing could be more fearful than losing one's freedom. To be confined. Never to see a golden cloudburst or rivers of sunlight on dark flowers. never to walk your own cultivated furrows. And the memory dangled over his heart like the sword of Damocles.

You think he belonged to the type who can't live with themselves any more." "What a good description! Yes. The kind who want something badly, and then discover that the price they have paid for it is too high.

Men mourn for what they have lost women for what they ain't got.

He shifted over without comment, lifting the blankets, and I scrambled into the warm sheets beside him. He smelled like soap and sleep and bare skin. He smelled familiar. Not the deja vu familiar of Guy or Mel. Familiar like...the ache in your chest of homesickness, of longing for harbor after weeks of rough seas or craving a fire's warmth after snow--or wanting back something you should never have given away.

I want to fuck you in those glasses.

We were locked onto each other as though we had just discovered this incredible thing you could do with two mouths pressing close and moist against each other. And the taste of him... Horrifyingly, unbearably sweet -- sweet in the way crack must feel hitting the bloodstream of an addict after years of staying clean.

Jake's mouth found mine, his lips molding hot and soft to my own. His tongue tentatively tested the seal of my lips; I parted them and he pushed inside. It was startlingly sweet and achingly familiar, like finding harbor.

I want that. I don't think a week goes by I don't dream about it. The way it feels to move inside you. The way your body grabs on like tight velvet. The sounds you make, like having me inside you is the best thing that ever happened to you.

Why did we all crave love so badly when half the time it left us annihilated?

He smelled familiar. Not the dèjà vu familiar of Guy or Mel. Familiar like...the ache in your chest of homesickness, of longing for harbor after weeks of rough seas or craving a fire's warmth after snow - or wanting back something you should never have given away.

Last night they hadn't even fucked. What the hell was the point of protective custody if you weren't at least going to get to have sex with your protector?

Passionate kisses, the intoxicating exchange of breath and saliva - and something more intimate - something there was no real name for, like a spark catching between us and taking light. How had I forgotten this? How had I been satisfied with anything else? Guy...Mel...it was like choosing celluloid kisses over the real thing. The real thing was raw and powerful and dangerous...but it was the real thing. Had I really believed I could make do with safe substitutes?

Will stared at him with utter disbelief. "Am I really supposed to answer that? What do you think I want? I want you." He added bitterly, "Who wouldn't want you? Seeing you're so sweet-tempered and understanding.

Then I got another mental image of him, broad chest covered in blond pelt, muscular forearms, big smooth cock jutting out of a silky nest. Riordan ordering me down on my knees, his hand tangling in my hair as he pulled my head toward his heat. The laugh died in my throat.

He won't feel a fraction of what I do for you. You won't change his life. And you will always wonder about what could have been, always feel that funny little ache right here." He puts his hand over your heart.

He smelled like soap and sleep and bare skin. He smelled familiar. Not the deja vu familiar of Guy or Mel. Familiar like... the ache in your chest of homesickness, of longing for harbor after weeks of rough seas or craving a fire's warmth after snow--or wanting back something you should never have given away.

Jake sapeva di bourbon e dolore. Aprii la bocca alla sua lingua, il suo ruvido velluto che spingeva contro il mio, reclamandomi come io stavo reclamando lui. Quel torrido pomeriggio – le scuri di legno che sbattevano contro il muro, il ronzio delle api fuori dalla finestra, il rumore lontano di un aereo che viaggiava verso luoghi sconosciuti – era solo un altro anello della catena.

Nothing so simple nor yet so intense as a kiss between lovers. The Boy with the Painful Tattoo

How the hell could you be homesick for a place that had never been home?

He was glad to have it that way. He didn't need Robert's power under him and harnessed, he wanted it inside, filling him, warming him, ending the winter that had haunted him for so long.