Quotes About Yearning

Cornelia had bemoaned the lack of hair or nail-clipping, even of blood. A notion that she had been close enough to the delicious boy to get all three-biting a piece of him perhaps (God overlook her wickedness), made her effervesce with merriment.

He had a hard face, tanned but sallow, wings of black hair beneath a shaved crown, and a collar of swarthy gold set with gems. But his gaze also clung on Cyrion. It like a lover's look. Or the starving lion as it beholds the deer.

The boy flushed. The voice had recently broken to a true silver tenor, cunning accessory to Mercurio's darker range. He was, besides, in love with Mercurio. Half Verensa had been would be. Filled with terror and joy, the boy waited trembling.

Ah, let the poor man have her for the dance. The measure will part them often enough. And a Mercurio consumed by hopeless love is a rare vision for the rest of us.

Where is my poppy, my catling? Where is my young lady?

Volf welcomed Cyrion like a long-lost brother he had not seen in ten years but for whose company he had continuously pined.

Failed by both the angels and Cornelia, Iuletta had turned at last to God for what she wanted.

When will you wed, Mercurio?" "Oh, I'd wed Mercurio tomorrow, but he will not have me.

Shaina got to her feet and clenched her hands. Her eyes, chestnut-colored, almost copper in the fire gloom, were wide and full of hunger, but her mouth was set.

The desire for stimulants following hard on the heels of sentience

He should probably make love to her.

He'd wanted to take her dirty and take her sweet, take her any way he could get her and every way he could dream up

Don't you want to be neighbors? No. he said. I want to be lovers. Sleep-together lovers. Wake-up together lovers. One bed. Oh, God, she was going to fall in love. She could feel it happening.

She was in love. In love with the same man she'd always been in love with-God save her.

What you want most you push away from you. You want more than you care to admit.

This gave him another opportunity to use one of those words that hung before him, shining and alluring. Far away in the distance there were more of them, dangerously sharp. Words that were not for him, but which he used all the same on the sly, and which had an exciting flavour and gave him a tingling feeling in the head. They were a little dangerous, all of them.

Words, words. No more words now. Here is my thirsting hand.

The Great Romance is for you. If only one of you would have followed me, the heavens would not have been able to contain my cries of joy.

In the space of so many scant hours, a new world had lifted the hem of her skirts before him. A world of seething pleasures and sweaty rage.

And like a cat in winter at a fire She could not edge close enough To what singed her, and would burn her.

The little comfort of love? -Is that comfort so little? -Caged birds accept each other but flight is what they long for.

Go, then! Go to the moon-you selfish dreamer!

But here there was only hot swing music and liquor, dance halls, ban, and movies, and sex that hung in the gloom like a chandelier and flooded the world with brief, deceptive rainbows.

Caged birds accept each other, but flight is what they long for.