Quotes About Yearning

I can't fathom my love for you, but I know that it makes me want to drown inside of you.

Curiosity is the fire of desires that burns the dust to reveal the diamond.

I was up all night just to talk to myself about you.

Fill yourself with love and happiness, but never give up the desire to love more.

You are not in love. Love is inside you longing for expression.

It is indeed a curse to dream as you walk amongst the dreamless

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.

The true subject of poetry is the loss of the beloved.

I close my eyes to indulge and reminisce of a sunset that never existed.

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.

Men yearn for poetry though they may not confess it; they desire that joy shall be graceful and sorrow august and infinity have a form.

This, this indeed is to be accursed, For if we mortals love, or if we sing, We count our joys not by what we have, But by what kept us from that perfect thing.

A poet is someone who stands outside in the rain hoping to be struck by lightning.

But he cannot see a connection between the end of yearning and the end of poetry. Is that what growing up amounts to: growing out of yearning, of passion, of all intensities of the soul?

I hunger for your sleek laugh and your hands the color of a furious harvest. I want to eat the sunbeams flaring in your beauty.

You must be a poet, a lady of evil luck desiring to be what you are not, longing to be what you can only visit.

We are looking to brands for poetry and for spirituality, because we're not getting those things from our communities or from each other.

I love the autumn for its sense of melancholy seems to strike my need for sadness. There is poetry in the dying of the year and mystery as well.

If there were no poetry on any day in the world, poetry would be invented that day. For there would be an intolerable hunger.

Sexual activity is driven by the same aims and motives as reading poetry or listening to music: to escape the limitations imposed by the need for particularity in the consciousness.

If the afternoon had been blue, there might have been less desire.

When she left me I stood out in the thunderstorm, hoping to be destroyed by lightning. It missed, first left, then right.

It is vain for the sober man to knock at poesy's door.