Quotes About Yearning

besides which Lucille would never understand me because I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.

Un dolore mi trafisse il cuore, come succedeva ogni volta che vedevo una ragazza che mi piaceva andarsene in direzione opposta alla mia in questo mondo troppo grande.

The other man, just as lonesome as I am In this empty universe

I play games with her fabulous eyes and she longs to be in a monastery

At lilac evening I walked with every muscle aching among the lights of 27th and Welton in the Denver colored section, wishing I were a Negro, feeling that the best the white world had offered was not enough ecstasy for me, not enough life, joy, kicks, darkness, music, not enough night.

She was eighteen and most lovely, and lost.

i love, love.

I walked around the sad honkytonks of Curtis Street; young kids in jeans and red shirts; peanut shells, movie marquees, shooting parlours. Beyond the glittering street was darkness, and beyond the darkness the West. I had to go.

I wanted to go and get Rita again and tell her a lot more things, and really make love to her this time, and calm her fears about men.

I suddenly saw the little hobo standing under a sad street lamp with his thumb stuck out--poor forlorn man, poor lost sometime boy, now broken ghost of the penniless wilds.

I wanta go to Tangiers, I want girls, I wanta write the biggest book in the world, I want spring to come, I want, I want-- Wanting, I get; getting, I lose; losing, I suffer; suffering, I die-- NOT WANTING, I DON'T GET NOT GETTING, I DON'T LOSE NOT LOSING, I DON'T SUFFER NOT SUFFERING, I DON'T DIE SUFFERING.

Ah, holy hole!

Trouble is, what would I do with her once I won her?- it's like winning an angel in hell and you are then entitled to go down with her to where it's worse or maybe there'll be light, some, down there, maybe it's me's crazy-

Go Moan for Man

Home in Missoula, Home in Truckee, Home in Opelousas, Ain't no home for me. Home in old Medora, Home in Wounded Knee, Home in Ogallala, Home I'll never be

The one thing that we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and can only be reproduced (though we hate to admit it) in death.

but I run away from the seashore and never came back again without that secret knowledge; that it didnt want me there, that I was a fool to sit there in the first place, the sea has its waves, the man has his fireside, period.

Naturally, now that I look back on it, this is only death: death will overtake us before heaven. The one thing we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss that was probably experiences (though we hate to admit it) in death.

Naturally, now that I look back on it, this is only death: death will overtake us before heaven. The one thing that we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and can only be reproduced (though we hate to admit it) in death.

All I wanted and all Neal wanted and all anybody wanted was some kind of penetration into the heart of things where, like in a womb, we could curl up and sleep the ecstatic sleep [...].

I told her it (sex) was beautiful. I wanted to prove it to her. She let me prove it, but I was too impatient and proved nothing. She sighed in the dark.

I looked up at the dark sky and prayed to God for a better break in life and a better chance to do something for the little people I loved. Nobody was paying any attention to me up there. I should have known better.

The one thing that we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and can only be reproduced (though we hate to admit it) in death. But who wants to die? In the rush of events I kept thinking about this in the back of my mind.

nunca me comprendería porque me gustan demasiadas cosas y me confundo y desconcierto corriendo detrás de una estrella fugaz tras otra hasta que me hundo. Así es la noche, y eso produce. No puedo ofrecer más que mi propia confusión