Quotes About Longing

He leaned in. "Kiss me, one last time." I called up a distant memory of his lips against mine. But this time, I kept my eyes open. When he pulled back, Logan passed his hand over my hair. "Don't forget me, okay?

stillborn love notes provide small satisfaction

We like, we cherish, we are very, very fond of—but we never love again.

Oh, give me back the good old days of fifty years ago, has been the cry ever since Adam's fifty-first birthday.

J?dom?, ka tas visp?r ir dabas likums. Katram cilv?kam ir tas, ko vi?š negrib, toties citiem ir tas, p?c k? vi?š ilgojas.

I wrote a poem once — a simple thing, but instinct with longing — while sitting under a tree and listening to the cooing of a pigeon. But that was in the afternoon. My only longing now was for a gun. Three

Tell me I didn't imagine it, Leo. Tell me that even though our bodies were in seperate states, our star selves shared an enchanted place. Tell me that right around noon today (eastern time) you had the strangest sensation: a tiny chill on your shoulder...a flutter in the heart...a shadow of strawberry-banana crossing your tongue...tell me you whispered my name.

To have a girl two thousand miles away going to pieces over you, weeping at the mere memory of you, losing her appetite, losing herself and her self respect - well, that's a trophy enough for a guy's ego, huh?

Every day I hold my breath until I see her. Sometimes in class, sometimes in the hallway. I can't start breathing until I see her smile at me. She always does, but the next day I'm always afraid she won't. At lunch I'm afraid she'll smile more at BT than at me. I'm afraid she'll look at him in some way that she doesn't look at me. I'm afraid that when I go to bed at night I'll still be wondering. I'm always afraid. Is that what love is - fear?

A little hatred goes a long, long way. It grows and grows. And it's hungry. You keep feeding it more and more people, and the more it gets, the more it wants. It's never satisfied. And pretty soon it squeezes all the love out of your heart and all you'll have left is a hateful heart.

She was gone. She was serenity. Her lips faintly smiling. Her golden skin. The glowing thread-ends of her hair. She seemed to have been dipped iin sunlight and set here to dry. I felt a pang of jealousy, that she could be sitting next to me and not know it. That she could be somewhere most wonderful and I could not be there, too.

No matter what day it is, no matter what time, no matter where I am - I'm always at the star party, staring at the slhouette on the crest of the hill, whishing that one dark shape would split in two. But it never does.

Nothing ever turns me on so much in a woman as unhappiness.

Yes, but it is difficult to get what we need when it isn't what we truly want.

Her knees began to shake, not because he was beautiful, which he had always been, but because coming into this room with him here waiting for her…it was like coming home.

He wanted her. Now. He wanted her all night. Every night for a week. A month. Maybe even a year. He sank down in a chair beside the fire and rubbed his eyes. "I'm in trouble," he muttered. And never had he believed a statement more.

We want what we want—we love who we love.

the more you lived the more regret and longing you suffered, that life was a glorious catastrophe

And Pasquale forced himself to look away from her then. It was like prying a magnet off steel, but he did it: he turned forward in the boat, closed his eyes, still seeing her standing there in his memory. He shook with the strain of not looking back until they rounded the breakwater into the open sea and Pasquale exhaled, his head falling to his chest. You are a strange young man, Tomasso the Communist said.

He wondered if the German girl ever knew that someone had loved her so much that he painted her twice on the cold cement wall of a machine-gun pillbox.

has anyone ever been more lovesick than a zombie, that pale, dull metaphor for love, all animal craving and lurching, outstretched arms, his very existence a sonnet about how much he wants those brains?

I wondered if I even had a self. "I miss you," I said aloud. Surprised at myself, I looked around to see if anyone had heard, but no one was n

We want what we want

Maybe all love is hopeless.