Quotes About Yearning

Burdens were born from the loss of innocence. Naïveté. While the innocent yearned to lose their innocence, those who had already done so in turn envied the innocent, and knew grief in what they had lost. Between the two, no exchange of truths was possible.

As much as it grieves me to say, there are times when getting what one wants yields nothing but confusion. It turns out that what one wants is in fact not at all what one wants. Worse is when you simply don't know what you want. You'd think death would discard such trials. If only it did.

Nor would he recognize hope if it came to him. Too much a stranger, too long a ghost.

Can you be nostalgic for the instant just past? Oh yes, and it's a bittersweet taste.

She seemed doomed ever to open her arms to the wrong lover, to love fully yet never be so loved in return. It made her pathetic stock in this retinue of squandered opportunities that scrawled out the history of a clumsy life.

He knew which world he wanted to live in. But, people didn't have that choice, did they? Not unless they killed the spark inside themselves first. With drink, with the oblivion of sweet smoke, but those were false dreams and made mockery of the ones truly lost – the ones whose lives had passed.

She drew him round and settled against him, murmered 'If there is to be a conversation, keep it short, please. What I desire is not answered by words.' Korlat to Whiskeyjack

Steven Erikson

Her body begs to be taken away and put into a warm bed with the sheets pulled high, even though nothing can help now.

I am a caged bird, rattling the bars of my cage, with furious flutterings, break my chains! Free my spirit! Let me fly with the wings you have drawn upon my soul with heaven dipped ink

It's deeply disturbing to think about how many people in the world are dying inside, screaming for someone, anyone, to care, reaching out again and again, sometimes to the hand that slaps them, because, all too often, without that hand they have nothing at all.

But what worse fate could there be? To remember love and know it is unattainable?

There is nothing like a sanitized present to make one yearn for the wicked past.

And she was not beautiful asleep. Her expression slack and not angelic. The very ordinariness of it so beautiful he felt a yearning to be something more than he was or could be. And as good a player as he was, he knew as he turned on the reel to reel and hugged the Fender once again that nothing he composed would ever be as beautiful as her ordinary sleep. Watching her he played the music of her sleeping. And by surrendering made something beautiful.

Cecie keeps telling him she'd like to take him home some night, husband or no. The Minotaur waits hopefully. Husband or no.

Some for the Glories of the World, and some Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;

Harold under his breath: "Ms. Yuka, I would love to kiss the backs of your legs while you were in line in a bank.

I was much too far out all my lifeAnd not waving but drowning.

My Muse sits forlorn She wishes she had not been born She sits in the cold No word she says is ever told.

I'll have your heart, if not by gift my knife Shall carve it out. I'll have your heart, your life.

Love me, Love me, I cried to the rocks and the trees, And Love me, they cried again, but it was only to tease. Once I cried Love me to the people, but they fled like a dream, And when I cried Love to my friend, she began to scream. Oh why do they leave me, the beautiful people, and only the rocks remain, To cry Love me, as I cry Love me, and Love me again.

I am hungry to be interrupted For ever and ever amen

Niets is zo mooi als de eerste eenzame minuten met iemand die jou zou kunnen beminnen en iemand die je zelf zou kunnen beminnen. Er bestaat niets dat zo stil is als die minuten, niets zo verzadigd met liefdelijke verwachting. In die paar minuten heeft men lief, niet in de vele die volgen. Nooit meer weet zij, zal zo iets schoons hen overkomen. Blijer zullen ze misschien worden, beter ook, en oneindig tevreden met elkaars lichaam. Maar nooit zal het meer zo schoon zijn.

Med näsduken pressad mot ett öga i taget gråter han av tomhet, gråter och gråter, ty tomheten har fler tårar än någonting annat.