Quotes About Yearning

Yet she knew too that she was deeply discontented and she sometimes suffered fierce feral moods of confused yearning during which it seemed to her that her whole life was a masquerade and that she was piously acting the part of a kindly affectionate serviceable woman who was just not herself.

He did not touch her but enjoyed the particular intimate pain of the tension between them.

Sometimes I just feel so shut in, with all those people and they've all got something while I've got nothing.

And I thought, rolling my head to and fro between my hands in anguish, oh if only it could have worked somehow for us two.

He could go back and take her in his arms. If only he knew how to do this. But they had lost the language of their affections, they had lost the style.

I wanted consolation, I wanted love, I wanted, to save me, some colossal and powerful love such as I had never known before.

I touched the Waterford glass with my finger: and in its ring I heard the echo of a voice saying You do not really want your wife back after all . I answered the voice in my heart: a bond of this kind is deeper and stronger than wanting or not wanting. Wherever I am in the world and whenever I am I shall always be Antonia.

How could it be that I had actually kissed her cheek without enveloping her, without becoming her? How could I at that moment have refrained from kneeling at her feet and howling?

It is the long still moment of dreamy suspended passion before the spinning clutching descent.

Ludens experienced, as an extra pain, an intimation of the happiness he might have felt in such a place.

There was as much emotion generated between them now as if they had been lovers.

I've felt so sad for years about you. My love for you has always had a sad face.

Only sometimes at night when I think that you live now and are somewhere, I shed tears.

Magic besieges the religious life and men yearn to speak the language of angels.

You don't know what it is to want a man, any man. I wish I could discover some respectable male prostitutes, like civil servants or university dons who do it in their spare time for a bit of pocket money, there must be such people.

Getting through time was rather the problem. The cry of 'Help me!' — but there was no one there.

But she felt that she had to see him or she would die.

If only he could be loved by somebody new.

I love you, I want you, I'd die for you —

Some inner organ would give way, her heart would literally break, if she did not see him soon.

Christ, I loathe women. But I can't get going on the other tack either. And you needn't blush and look coy, I never fancied you. I know what you got up to with Fritzie Eitel! No—but I'd have had old Wilfred if he'd asked me. What did old Wilfred do for sex? No one ever knew. Perhaps he didn't have any, and if so good on him.

Moreover, and of course, she loved him; but in Sefton's stern code her love had always been chained up, and howled fruitlessly, as indeed it did now.

Oh Christ, if I could only have some happiness.

Her love for men had always been somehow neurotic and unfulfilled.