Quotes About Longing

Sweet Jude. You are my dearest punishment.

And you will still love him, mortal girl, long after his feelings evaporate like morning dew.

My chest hurts, looking at him. I feel like I can't breathe. Though he is in front of me, the pain of losing him hasn't faded.

But we all want stupid things. That doesn't mean we should have them.

I am dreaming away my days, restless, never fully awake.

I said I was thinking about you the whole time. - Lila

O lady fair! O lady cruel! How I miss your sweet misrule. I miss your hair. I miss your eyes. But most of all, I miss your thighs.

It takes us a long time to wend our way back down the stairs. My hands are in his hair. His mouth is on my neck. My back is against the ancient stone wall. Everything is slow and perfect and makes no sense at all. This can't be my life. This feels nothing like my life.

You don't know how long I've waited to hear those word,' he says. 'You don't want me dead.' 'If you joke about this, I am going to-' 'Kill me?' He asks, raising both black brows. I think I might hate him after all.

I have had little fun in my life so far. The promise of more is difficult to resist.

Maybe it isn't the worst thing to want to be loved, even if your're not. Even if it hurts.

Puede que desear que alguien te quiera no sea lo peor del mundo, aunque no seas correspondido. Aunque te duela. Puede que la debilidad forme parte de la esencia del ser humano.

Her fingers are cold against his flushed skin. It's nice. He hopes she won't take them away.

I am overcome with a feeling of nostalgia for something I haven't yet lost.

It isn't that mortals can't be pretty—many of them are—but their beauty doesn't make you feel pummeled by it. I feel a little pummeled by Oak's beauty. If I look at him too long, I want to take a bite out of him.

Rzecz w tym, ?e gdy czego? wyj?tkowo mocno pragniemy, gotowi jeste?my zaryzykowa? prawie wszystko.

Mo?e to nie jest takie straszne, kiedy ktoÅ› pragnie by? kochany, nawet kiedy nie jest. Nawet jeÅ›li to sprawia ból. Mo?e bycie istotÄ… ludzkÄ… nie zawsze oznacza sÅ'abo??.

Though he means me harm, I will miss him. I will miss the way he moves through the world, as though nothing could be so terrible that he might not laugh at it.

When I'm with him, I feel like the hero of a story. Of my story. It's when he's not there that things don't feel right.

Mother Marrow gestures to the soup, and I, who can afford no more enemies, bring it to my lips. It tastes of a memory I cannot quite place, warm afternoons and splashing in pools and kicking plastic toys across the brown grass of summer lawns. Tears spring to my eyes. I want to spill it out in to the dirt. I want to drink it down to the dregs.

If it's nice, perhaps the smith will make you a cup that never runs out of wine." Carden gives me a look up through his lashes that I find hard to interpret and rises, too. He takes my hand. "Nothing is sweeter," he says, kissing the back of it, "but that which is scarce.

Desire is an odd thing. As soon as it is sated, it transmutes. If we receive the golden thread, we desire the golden needle.

I know I shouldn't love it as I do, stolen as I am from the mortal world, my parents murdered. But I love it all the same

You carried my heart in your hands tonight," he said. "But I feel as if you have carried it long before that.