Quotes About Yearning

Listen my love the hour is late my side has an ache If you don't get a taxi my heart will break

I was in love with a beautiful, brilliant girl who was married to the most elegant and incisive gent I had ever met; there was no hope for me but, oh, the love was beautiful. Mr.

Hey, there's a place in the darkness. You know what I mean? I think I met you there. I knew you there.

You remember how it feels, don't you? All that desire scorching you straight through. Feeling like you're penned up in a small-town cage, jailed by cornstalk bars. Knowing, just knowing, that you'll be stuck in that quiet little town forever if you don't take a chance.

When he was in school he longed to be out, and when he was out he longed to be in. On the way he thought about coming home, and coming home he thought about going. Wherever he was he wished he were somewhere else, and when he got there he wondered why he'd even bothered.

He paused again as a tear of longing rolled from cheek to lip with the sweet-salty taste of an old memory.

There was once a boy named Milo who didn't know what to do with himself—not just sometimes, but always. When he was in school he longed to be out, and when he was out he longed to be in. On the way he thought about coming home, and coming home he thought about going. Wherever he was he wished he were somewhere else, and when he got there he wondered why he'd bothered. Nothing really interested him—least of all the things that should have.

Što više želiš, to manje dobivaš, a što manje dobivaš, sve više imaš.

Desire turns us into ghosts

Pero su recuerdo no me abandona. Quien ha visto la Esperanza, no la olvida. La busca bajo todos los cielos y entre todos los hombres. Y sueña que un día va a encontrarla de nuevo, no sabe dónde, acaso entre los suyos. En cada hombre late la posibilidad de ser o, más exactamente, de volver a ser , otro hombre.

Garabato Con un trozo de carbón Con mi gis roto y mi lápiz rojo dibujar tu nombre el nombre de tu boca el signo de tus piernas en la pared de nadie En la puerta prohibida grabar el nombre de tu cuerpo hasta que la hoja de mi navaja sangre y la piedra grite y el muro respire como un pecho...

Shall man's basest desires receive the fullest measure of gratification, and his purest aspirations starve for lack of sustenance?

this stray little thought released in him some echo of the past, a solitary trembling note whose sound rose higher and higher in his chest, awakening inarticulate longings and, inseparable from them, a piercing, unfamiliar sorrow.

But to mourn, that's different. To mourn is to be eaten alive with homesickness for the person.

O]nly the sea is like a human being . . .always moving, always something deep in itself is stirring it. It never rests; it is always wanting, wanting, wanting. It hurries on; and then it creeps back slowly without having reached, moaning. It is always asking a question and it never gets the answer.

why am I so alone, so hard, so cold? I am so weary of myself! It is eating my soul to its core,--self, self, self! I cannot bear this life! I cannot breathe, I cannot live! Will nothing free me from myself?' She pressed her cheek agains the wooden post. 'I want to love! I want something great and pure to lift me to itself! Dear old man, I cannot bear it any more! I am so cold, so hard, so hard; will no one help me!

I realized that the longing for art, like the longing for love, is a malady that blinds us, and makes us forget the things we already know, obscuring reality.

Love is the urgency to hold fast to another and to be together in the same place. It's the desire to keep the world out by embracing another. It is the yearning to find a safe harbor for the human soul.

Kafamda bir tuhafl?k var, dedi Mevlut. Ne yapsam bu alemde yapayaln?z hissediyorum kendimi. Ben yan?ndayken bir daha asla öyle hissetmeyeceksin, dedi Rayiha anaç bir tav?rla. Mevlut çayhanenin camlar?nda yans?yan Rayiha'n?n hayalinin kendisine ÅŸefkatle sokulduÄŸunu görüp bu an? hiç unutamayaca??n? anlad?.

Ama aÅŸk? diri tutan ÅŸey imkâns?z olmas?d?r.

Bazan Füsun'un hayallere dald???n? yüzünden anlar, onun hayal ettiÄŸi ülkeye gitmek ister, ama kendimi, hayat?m?, a??rl???m?, masada oturuÅŸumu çok umutsuz bulurdum.

Tužna projekcija života za pjesnika je primamljivija od samog života.

D??ar?, d??ar?, der içimizdeki huzursuz ses, öteki insanlar?n, karanl???n, sefaletin, rezilliÄŸin içine koÅŸ.

AÅŸk birisine sar?lma, onunla ayn? yerde olma özlemidir. Onu kucaklayarak, bütün dünyay? d??arda b?rakma arzusudur. Ä°nsan?n ruhuna güvenli bir s???nak bulma özlemidir.