Quotes About Yearning

We form friendships so that we can feel certain emotions, like love, want, magic - of missing people, avoid others - like loneliness.

I think there is a part of life that I'm missing.

Why should I miss anything? The whole world is missing me.

I've been missing Japanese literature so much of late.

What we want from art is whatever is missing from the lives we are already living and making. Something is always missing, and so art-making is endless.

I loved being a film executive. But something was always missing for me. I always had the feeling that I was looking over my shoulder - what's going on on Broadway?

Obviously I'm missing the city life.

I have had the problem of seeing my male model go to Italy and... stay there.

Always it gave me a pang that my children had no lawful claim to a name.

Most children - I know I did when I was a kid - fantasize another set of parents. Or fantasize no parents. They don't tell their real parents about that - you don't want to tell Mom and Dad.

I miss the camera each moment and each day.

There were moments when I really just thought, I don't need anything and I don't need anyone. I just want to go away and disappear.

I get little moments all the time, all I want to do is call my mom.

I've always wanted to be a mommy.

Knowledge is like money: the more he gets, the more he craves.

A day away from Tallulah is like a month in the country.

When I got the appetite for more and more theatre, all I could think of was trying to get back to New York.

Everybody wants attention, more or less. I just want a lot.

The more people see, the more they want to see.

I want to go to Morocco really bad.

When I was 12, I used to be the best friend of the most beautiful girls, but just the best friend. They would always come to me to cry about a guy who broke their heart, and I would just be sitting there thinking, 'I wish I was the guy and not the best friend.'

When I was younger, I always saw my friends with their mothers and fathers and felt a little jealous of them for having a father close by.

There is no happy land. There is no end to hunger.

The sight of these closed golden houses with their warmth of life awoke in him a bitter, poignant, strangely mixed emotion of exile and return, of loneliness and security, of being forever shut out from the palpable and passionate integument of life and fellowship, and of being so close to it that he could touch it with his hand, enter it by a door, possess it with a word--a word that, somehow, he could never speak, a door that, somehow, he would never open.