Quotes About Yearning

Another early memory is my wish for an ugly dog belonging to a neighbour. I kept my household in turmoil for weeks to get that dog. My ears were deaf to offers of pets with more prepossessing appearance. Moral: Attachment is blinding; it lends an imaginary halo of attractiveness to the object of desire. "A

The cohesive force by which all three bodies [causal, astral and physical] are held together is desire. [...] The mere presence of a body signifies that its existence is made possible by unfulfilled desires. pg425, Chapter 43, The resurrection of Sri Yukteswar

Conserve your powers. Be like the capacious ocean, absorbing within all the tributary rivers of the senses. Small yearnings are openings in the reservoir of your inner peace, permitting healing waters to be wasted in the desert soil of materialism. The forceful activating impulse of wrong desire is the greatest enemy to the happiness of man. Roam in the world as a lion of self-control; see that the frogs of weakness don't kick you around.

The adhesive force by which all three bodies are held together is desire. The power of unfulfilled desires is the root of all man's slavery.

The power of unfulfilled desires is the root of all of man's slavery.

What made his face burn was a sense of failure, the yearning for freedom that remained unfulfilled and the acute realisation that he didn't know anything.

She had awakened something in him that had slumbered far too long. Not only did he feel passion, he felt the return of hope.

At the top the bridge with the stars shining above the harbor, I look to the north and wish again that there were two lives apportioned to every man and woman.

Don't go yet. Please. Tell me a story, one about us. Tell what it meant. How on earth did it happen? The story, Pat—tell it to me.

M]otherlessness caused one of the great thirsts of the human condition.

They strode with purpose, armed with resolution, whereas everything I did seemed insubstantial and forced. I longed for engagement, intrusion, and a little more Mardi Gras than Lent in my life.

I love you. I worn' about you. I wonder whether I tell you enough how I love you and want you and need you and how I am diminished and afraid when you are not with me and how I am multiplied when you are here." His

Lonely Day I saw your dress sway with the breeze at the end of a lonely day. I saw your dress sway, drying on a hanger, play, dance with summer ease. Softly, I saw your dress sway and wished I were the breeze.

I wish you were small again, so I could hold you in my arms and comfort you. But you are grown, and you know that for some things there is no comfort.

Morgan, he whispered, I wish you had not been someone I loved so.

Oh, yes. He felt the pearls brush down his face again. Dory turned: he met her eyes and let her see the new pearls forming. Anything that beautiful is terrible. Because it's outside of you. It's not you. You'll do anything to make it part of you. You'd eat it, drown in it, kill it, let it kill you. Anything to stop it from not being you.

Sybel, you went from me like a dream, so silently, so irrevocably—I could not bear it, I could not bear it—

I need you." "You must be careful," he whispered. "You must be so careful. Every need is a path to her.

In my reading, I sought a contemporary, someone who lived what I thought of as my "other life," the one not lived, but so lavishly imagined and desired that it felt not like another life, but a version of my own. You feel—I did—deep contentment when you find such a life expressed by a writer who has lived it, as if in reading that life you (sort of) live it too.

You ask if I miss you. I think of your voice, your hands, and your eyes when you look straight into mine. I remember your courage that I hadn't suspected, and it gives me courage.

What else mattered except being with Carol, anywhere, anyhow?

But even that question wasn't definite enough. Perhaps it was a statement after all: I don't want to die yet without knowing you.

Thinking no more about it, he stepped off into that cool space, that fast descent to her, with nothing in his mind but a memory of a curve of her shoulder, naked, as he had never seen it.

In the middle of the block, she opened the door of a coffee shop, but they were playing one of the songs she had heard with Carol everywhere, and she let the door close and walked on. The music lived, but the world was dead. And the song would die one day, she thought, but how would the world come back to life? How would its salt come back?