Quotes About Yearning

Vielleicht hat die Sehnsucht nach dieser Welt auch sehr viel mit seiner Mutter zu tun.

Yet Bastian knew he couldn't leave without the book. It was clear to him that he had only come to the shop because of this book. It had called him in some mysterious way, because it wanted to be his, because it had somehow always belonged to him. Michael Ende, The Neverending Story

I wish I could do that, it whispered. I'd like to bring them out of books, touch them, all those characters, all those wonderful characters. I want them to come out of the pages and sit beside me, I want them to smile at me, I want, I want, I want...

O ja, auch das hatte Elinor inzwischen begriffen: dass die Sehnsucht nach Büchern nichts war im Vergleich zu der Sehnsucht, die man nach Menschen haben konnte. Die Bücher erzählten von der Liebe, und es war wunderbar, ihnen zu lauschen, aber sie konnten nicht ersetzen, wovon sie erzählten.

Heavens, what a plague love was! Anyone who claimed otherwise had never yet felt that wretched trembling of the heart.

La sete di storie diminuiva se si poteva viverne una?

You'd like him back, too, wouldn't you? It was difficult for her to turn her eyes away from Farid's face. He'll never come back, she whispered, and look at Dustfinger. She didn't have the strength to speak any louder. All her strength was gone, as if Farid had taken it away with him. He had taken everything away from him.

It's a world full of terror and beauty (...) and I could always understand why Dustfinger felt homesick for it.

Losing people and missing them — that's what your life consists of.

Didn't she feel, deep down inside, that her longing was sapping her strength and her appetite, even her pleasure in books? Longing.

Oh, er vermisste sein gemasertes Gesicht und seine heisere Stimme. Er vermisste ihn ganz besonders unter all diesen weichhäutigen weißen Gesichtern.

A longing for books was nothing compared with what you could feel for human beings. The books told you about that feeling. The books spoke of love, and it was wonderful to listen to them, but they were not substitute for love itself.

Giant letters march across the dome of the sky: HOME NOT FOUND. Huw, who knows Comic Sans when she sees it, winces in mild disgust.

If only," he said. "If only there was some way to feel that way all the time." "You couldn't," I said, without thinking. "Regression to the mean. The extraordinary always ends up feeling ordinary. Do it for long enough and it'd just be noise." "You may be right. But I hope you're not. Somewhere out there, there's a thing so amazing that you can devote your life to it and never forget how special it is.

Imagine trying to hold the tail of a comet as it blazes across the heavens. It's burning your hands, eating you up, but there's no malice in it; a comet can't possibly know or care about you. You will sacrifice all you are or ever will be for that comet because it suffuses every inch of your skin with a sweet itch you cannot catch, and through its grace you discover velocities you never dreamt possible.

The truth is that abandoned dog following you over sea and land, baying from barren clifftops, never tiring and never quitting, forever pining after you—and the day will come when that dog is on your porch, scratching insistently at your door, forcing you to claim it once again.

What does the breathtaking view of the ocean mean without you?

Du bist gerade erst gegangen und schon erscheinen unsere gemeinsamen Orte so viel schöner und bedeutungsvoller. Wieso wolltest du all das nur hinter dir lassen? Was rede ich, meine Welt ist doch nicht bedeutungsvoller, sondern leerer. Was nützt der atemberaubende Blick aufs Meer schon ohne dich? Gar nichts.

I wish, I wish I wish' wished Wish

THE SPELL OF LOVE DENIED

Where do you want to go, my heart? Anywhere - anywhere, out of this world.

You can come back one day. Or I could come there. Maybe. I could find you. Finding is for the things that are lost. You don't need to find me, Mayor.

I'd spent my whole life feeling like that. Like everybody else was onto something that I couldn't seem to find, that I didn't even know existed.I wanted to figure it out, the secret to having the easy life that everyone else seemed to have, where they fit in and were good at everything they tried. Year after year, I waited for it all to fall into place--every September I told myself, This year will be different--but year after year, it was all just the same.

and I thought how liking a boy was just the same as believing you wanted to know a secret - everything was better when you were denied and could feel tormented by curiousity or loneliness. But the moment of something happening was treacherous. It was just so tiring to have to worry about whether your face was peeling, or to have to laugh at stories that weren't funny.