Quotes About Yearning

Dear Dick, I guess it's been a case of infatuation... Mostly this infatuation-energy is about wanting to know someone. ... Whereas the sex-infatuations that's male *you, Shake, the priest) leap out of nowhere, based on not knowing them at all. As if sex could provide the missing clues. Can it? In the cases of the males it's like I felt some kind of hint of who that person was floating under the surface. Wanting sex to realise things I knew.

How was it possible to be with someone and yet feel so utterly alone? How was it possible to be with someone as wonderful, warm and kind as Andrew and yet still wonder if love would ever find you?

She'd never borne children, never been in love. She'd always dreamed of having friends she could call soulmates, but somehow it never happened.

Belly?" he called. "Belly, are you here?

Fräulein von Bernburg ist aufgestanden und wendet Manuela den Rücken zu. Manuela blickt ihr nach: »Immer sind Sie so weit weg, immer so fern, nie kann man bei Ihnen sein und nie Ihre Hand fassen und Sie küssen, nie nah sein!«

Ich kann, ich kann nicht anders. Ich liebe Sie, liebes Fräulein von Bernburg! Ich liebe Sie, so, so sehr wie meine Mutter – ja und noch viel, viel mehr! Wenn ich Ihre Hände sehe, zieht es mich hin, sie zu fühlen. Ihre Stimme, wenn Sie rufen, packt mich, reißt mich – ich kann nichts dafür, ich liebe, liebe Sie!«

Che altro se non tempo, fertilità del suolo, morìa di bestie, malattie - volevo strappare la gente al circolo dentro cui era inserita? Dentro cui stava bene, non cercava nient'altro? Al che io, scattando: perché non conosce niente altro. Perché c'è qualcuno che lascia alla gente solo questa specie di domande.

Where can I go. Is it possible to imagine a world, a time, where I would have a place. There's no one I could ask. That's the answer.

We trifle when we assign limits to our desires, since nature hath set none.

Groaning, he gripped his fists in the wild stuff. "Contessa.God, Contessa." She straightened, changing the angle, changing the pleasure. She shook her hair back and undulated. She was a contessa.A princess.No,a queen.

I did love him. But I did not love him like I loved Dutchy: beyond reason. Maybe you only get one of those in a lifetime, I don't know. But it was all right. It was enough.

It is a terrible thing to find the love of your life.... You know too well what you're missing when it's gone.

It's a peculiar kind of dissatisfaction, a bittersweet nostalgia for a moment not yet past.

It is a terrible thing to find the love of your life, Christina, she says. You know too well what you're missing when it's gone.

He did get one thing right: Sometimes a sanctuary, sometimes a prison, that house on the hill has always been my home. I've spent my life yearning toward it, wanting to escape it, paralyzed by its hold on me. (There are many ways to be crippled, I've learned over the years, many forms of paralysis.) My ancestors fled to Maine from Salem, but like anyone who tries to run away from the past, they brought it with them.

It's a bitter nostalgia from a moment not yet passed.

Thinking about all of this, I feel a sudden rush of anticipation, an abstract yearning. Unfamiliar as it is, I do remember it. I experienced this feeling as a little girl the night before Christmas, and later when I was applying to college, and even later when I moved to New York. It's a longing for things to come, possibilities unfolding before me, the charged expectation of change.

Ever since I was a little girl I had wanted to be

The truth is, even if you make a pact with yourself that you're not looking and don't care, a piece of you is always waiting for love to happen.

Maybe, I think, someone here will want me. Maybe I'll have a life I've never dared to imagine, in a bright, snug house where there is plenty to eat—warm cake and milky tea with as much sugar as I please. But I am quaking as I make my way up the stairs to the stage.

I puzzle over the onionskin, trying to spill my heart onto the page. But I can only come up with the same words, in the same order, and hope the depth of feeling beneath them gives them weight and substance. I love you. I miss you.

I did not love him the way I loved Dutchy: beyond reason. Maybe you only get one of those in a lifetime.

Because I want every breath you take to be empty unless you're close enough to smell me. Every word you speak to be unimportant unless it's to me. Every sound you hear empty unless it's my voice. I want you to remember that whatever pleasure you have from now on, you'll have it from me. ~Rurik Wilder~

Ah me, but where are now the songs I sang When life was sweet because you call'd them sweet?