Quotes About Longing

As Jane looked around her, she felt that dissatisfied feeling she often experienced when she was somewhere new and lovely. She couldn't quite articulate it except with the words If only I were here. This little beachside café was so exquisite, she longed to really be there—except, of course, she was there, so it didn't make sense. "Jane?

Jimmy is looking adoringly down at Connie's dark head. What would it have been like to have a man love you like that? Would it have changed something fundamental in your psyche to wake up each morning knowing that you were loved, that someone wanted to touch your body even when it got all old and wrinkly?

As Jane looked around her, she felt that dissatisfied feeling she often experienced when she was somewhere new and lovely. She couldn't quite articulate it except with the words If only I were here. This little beachside café was so exquisite, she longed to be really there -- except, of course, she was there, so it didn't make sense.

She was so transparent. Always a Daddy's girl. It was Stan's approval she so desperately craved, as if it were withheld from her, and yet she'd always had it, from the moment he first held her. Brooke was Stan's favorite. Everyone knew it except for Brooke.

It is funny how you do not miss affection until it is given, but once it is, it can never be enough; you would drown in it if possible.

When I dream, I dream of him. For several nights now he's come to me, waving from a distant shore as if he's been waiting patiently for me to arrive. He doesn't utter a word, but his smile says everything: I've missed you.

sometimes, if you're sincere about what you have to say, if you want to communicate the full force of human emotions like grief and longing and gratitude, you try writing and then realize that your words are just as transient as you are, that they always fail you when you need them most, and that if they can't serve their purpose and convey meaning perfectly—if they can't reach the unborn and the dead—then they're better off buried or burned.2

You forgot about the house, you forgot about the ring. I remember everything, I just wanna hear you sing. I remember the love, right after the fights. You cant tell me you dont remember those nights. and if I would cry, then you would cry twice. To me you are the brightest star under sunlight. See take away my title, take away my stripes. You give me back my girl and you give me back my life. Give me back my girl and you give me back my life.

We probably aint supposed to be together, but I wonder if my love of her could last forever.

God knows that Id do anything for a part two.

And I know you probably wish you never met me, and I just wish you never forget me.

His thumb stroked my cheek. My eyes half-closed. When he spoke next, it was very softly, his voice an almost-physical caress against my whole body. My flesh tightened like a harpstring. I swallowed hard against the wave of liquid heat. "How can I possibly be jealous when I know you spent your time grieving for me, Dante?

The lie tasted of brass, and she suddenly longed for a glass of decent wine and an exceedingly sensational and frivolous novel, read in the comfort of her own bed.

No matter how much time goes by, missing someone never gets any better. You just learn to work around it.

I will do anything for you, just don't go anywhere. Just don't leave. Stand there and smile at me, and I'll do anything you want.

A place of literary canon wasn't a guarantee unless you tapped into something deeper, and Jay's longing was drawn from the deepest well of all...

He is wine and bread and deep in my stomach.

Nell and Fen had chased away my thoughts of suicide. But what had they left me with? Fierce desires, a great tide of feeling of which I could make little sense, an ache that seemed to have no name but want. I want. Intransitive. No object. It was the opposite of wanting to die. But it was scarcely more bearable.

I try not to return to these moments very often, for I end up lacerating my young self for not simply kissing the girl. I thought we had time. Despite everything, I believed somehow there was time. Love's first mistake. Perhaps love's only mistake.

Both Fen & Helen needed me to choose, to be their one & only when I didn't want a one & only. I loved that Amy Lowell poem when I first read it, how her lover was like red wine at the beginning and then became bread. But that has not happened to me. My loves remain wine to me, yet I become too quickly bread to them.

I wanted her and no one else to tell me the story of how she died.

I look back on those days and it feels gluttonous, all that time and love and life ahead, no bees in my body and my mother on the other end of the line.

Becca, though, I married. I don't know how other people do it, not stay with the girl whose ankle socks made your stomach flip at age fourteen, whose wet hair smells like your past—the girl who was with you the very moment you were introduced to happiness.

He kissed where I was touching, just below my collarbone, in that place where all my feelings got caught. I believed she'd sent him to me as a gift to help me through.