Quotes About Yearning

Tutto fu ambito e tutto fu tentato. Quel che non fu fatto io lo sognai e tanto era l'ardore che il sogno eguagliò l'atto.

Perché ella voleva partire? Perché ella voleva spezzare l'incanto? I loro destini ormai non erano legati per sempre? Egli aveva bisogno di lei per vivere, degli occhi, della voce, del pensiero di lei... egli era tutto penetrato da quell'amore, aveva tutto il sangue alterato come da un veleno, senza rimedio. Perché ella voleva fuggire? Egli si sarebbe avviticchiato a lei, l'avrebbe prima soffocata sul suo petto. No, non poteva essere... Mai! Mai!

Egli ora sa che io lo amo; lo sa dalla mia bocca. Io non ho più scampo che nella fuga. Ecco dove sono giunta. Quando mi guarda, ha in fondo agli occhi un luccicore singolare che prima non aveva.

In vain you beg, in vain you ache, in vain you've opened your wrecked heart wide. Perhaps in heaven the rainclouds quake because we both have cried?

He followed the glances of some of them like a ray of love directed at a woman seated somewhere, engrossed in her own thoughts, made languorous by secret delights and softened in some impure way, with a snow-white face in which her mouth opened like a hive damp with honey.

The more the heart is sated with joy, the more it becomes insatiable.

Ou bien, est-ce pour la combler...et ensuite la séduire, la réduire à une misère plus grande encore?

Tandis qu'eux, ils y attachaient leur regard, ils suivaient l'argent une fois donné, par la pensée, ils continuaient par mille chemins à y tenir encore, comme à une chose d'eux-mêmes, arrachée, perdue.

éblouie par son désir, entraînée par l'illusion, elle avait rêvé l'impossible.

There's a pleasure to loving someone even when you know there's no chance in them loving you back. The pain I felt let me know I was still alive.

It's when you don't need something that you tend to lose it.

My brain said no. But my heart!

the things we don't have are sadder than the things we have. Because the things we don't have exist in our imaginations, where they are perfect.

Maybe we'll meet again, when we are slightly older and our minds less hectic, and I'll be right for you and you'll be right for me. But right now, I am chaos to your thoughts and you are poison to my heart.

Oh yes, it's very tragic. Why does everyone always like love stories? What about absence-of-love stories? Aren't they much more common?

My beautiful Win. I wanted to kiss him on every last broken place, but his mother and my lawyer were there. So, instead I started to cry.

Because the things we don't have are sadder than the things we have. Because the things we don't have exist in our imaginations, where they are perfect.

He would know that if he hadn't been the person he was, terrified and cowardly and petty and insecure and sexually panicked and broken, Sadie might have been his.

He missed Sadie more than he had missed her in the years he hadn't spoken to her, because there she was, every day. It looked like Sadie and it spoke like Sadie, but somehow it was no longer Sadie.

And to see her almost made him want to cry. It was as if she were a mathematical proof that had eluded him for many years, but all at once, with fresh, well-rested eyes, the proof had a completely obvious solution. There's Sadie, he thought. Yes.

He wanted Ichigo's life, a lifetime of endless, immaculate tomorrows, free of mistakes and the evidence of having lived.

She could feel herself forgetting all the details of Marx---the sound of his voice, the feeling of his fingers and the way they gestured, his precise temperature, his scent on clothing, the way he looked walking away, or running up a flight of stairs. Eventually, Sadie imagined that Marx would be reduced to a single image: just a man standing under a torii gate, holding his hat in his hands, waiting for her.

A nostalgia for something that had never been? An envy at their intimacy? She wondered what it would have been like if Sam had been her lover.

I longed for Mum in the most primitive way.