Quotes About Yearning

I am Madame Bovary.

Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars.

She wanted to die, but she also wanted to live in Paris.

Everything, even herself, was now unbearable to her. She wished that, taking wing like a bird, she could fly somewhere, far away to regions of purity, and there grow young again.

Se a cullare le azzurre campanule del tuo balcone credi che sospirando passi il vento mormoratore sappi che, occulto fra le verdi foglie, sono io respirare. Se mentre risuona confuso alle tue spalle vago rumore, credi che per nome ti abbia chiamato lontana voce, sappi che, fra le ombre che ti cercano, sono io a chiamare. Se a notte fonda si turba timoroso il tuo cuore mentre senti sulle labbra un alito ardente, sappi che, sebbene invisibile, accanto a te sono io a respirare.

Por una mirada un mundo; por una sonrisa, un cielo; por un beso…¡yo no sé qué te diera por un beso!

El amor...! El amor es un rayo de luna

Si al mecer las azules campanillas de tu balcón, crees que suspirando pasa el viento murmurador, sabe que, oculto entre las verdes hojas, suspiro yo. Si al resonar confuso a tus espaldas vago rumor, crees que por tu nombre te ha llamado lejana voz, sabe que, entre las sombras que te cercan, te llamo yo. Si se turba medroso en la alta noche tu corazón, al sentir en tus labios un aliento abrasador, sabe que, aunque invisible, al lado tuyo, respiro yo.

Amar! Había nacido para soñar el amor, no para sentirlo".

Lord, I do not attempt to comprehend Your sublimity, because my intellect is not at all equal to such a task. But I yearn to understand some measure of Your truth, which my heart believes and loves. For I do not seek to understand in order to believe but I believe in order to understand. For I believe even this: that I shall not understand unless I believe.3

Lust on this scale was rare: it seemed a crime to waste it.

A lawful kiss is never worth as much as a stolen one.

Dave hung up. And unplugged the phone. With a fierce and bitter pain he stared at it, watching how, over and over again, it didn't ring.

Maybe home for some is always the one they lost.

No man ever truly possesses a woman, anyhow," said Gidas moodily. "He has her body for a time if he's lucky, but only the most fleeting glimpse into her soul." Gidas was a poet, or wanted to be.

We are the total of our longings, he had written. But Kevin was a song-writer, not a poet, and he never did use it.

We are the total of our longings [...]

Heimthra' was the word used for longing: for home, for the past, for things to be as they once had been. Even the gods were said to know that yearning, from when the worlds were broken.

It was so strange to realize how it was only at this brink of the chasm, threshold of the dark or the god's holy light, that one could grasp and accept one's own heart's yearning for more of the world. For life.

Writing to you like this is the same as saying your name when I've woken up late, feeling sick, tasting rot. It's pointless, but it happens.

I think they're being cheap with their lives, that's why. So they seem ravenous for the worst thoughts I can have.

I don't know what I'm playing at. I feel so romantic and furious all the time.

He was a mystery. Intimacy is a mystery; maybe that's what he wanted.

He is not there but You know you are tasting together The winter, or a light spring weather. His hand to take your hand is overmuch. Too much too bear.