Quotes About Longing

I hurried away from Brewster. When I reached my girl, the goslings rushed over to strain against the wire of the kennel, sticking their beaks out and peeping at me with their tiny voices. Mom came back in the room, carrying a box. "I could hear them all the way from the supply kitchen," she remarked. "They seem really upset that Lily is out and they're not. But I knew you would want them to stay in the kennel; they were so hard to catch the first time.

I stared down with contempt at the big dog, who was watching forlornly. He might get to go for walks with CJ, but she would never pick him up for a cuddle.

The history of the American Negro is the history of this strife, -- this longing to attain self-conscious manhood, to merge his double self into a better and truer self. In this merging he wishes neither of the older selves to be lost... He simply wishes to make it possible for a man to be both a Negro and an American...

False enchantment can last a lifetime.

He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The windiest militant trash Important Persons shout Is not so crude as our wish: What mad Nijinsky wrote About Diaghilev Is true of the normal heart; For the error bred in the bone Of each woman and each man Craves what it cannot have; Not universal love But to be loved alone.

The desires of the heart are as crooked as corkscrews.

I long to reach out, to pull Death close, to feel it wind around my shoulders and tighten about my waist. I want its chill to cup my breasts, and stroke my throat. Death's cold thrust will spread from my womb through my hips and into my bones. As it slips around the base of my skull and lies metallic on my tongue, I can finally let go. Then, and only then, will I be free to find Badgertail again.

You came back to us in a dream and we were not here.

We keep asking where they have gone those years we remember and we reach for them like hands in the night

In Hollywood, the women are all peaches. It makes one long for an apple occasionally.

The love that lasts longest is the love that is never returned.

One can be very much in love with a woman without wishing to spend the rest of one's life with her.

And this brought forth a dream and soon enough/ This dream itself had all my thought and love

We know their dream; enough To know they dreamed and are dead; And what if excess of love Bewildered them till they died?

Consume my heart away; sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is; and gather me Into the artifice of eternity.

They, with their wild music as of winds blowing in the reeds,[1] seemed to me the very inmost voice of Celtic sadness, and of Celtic longing for infinite things the world has never seen.

The Wheel Through winter-time we call on spring, And through the spring on summer call, And when abounding hedges ring Declare that winter's best of all; And after that there's nothing good Because the spring-time has not come -- Nor know what disturbs our blood Is but its longing for the tomb.

You will forget me soon. Oh dear one, hate me rather than forget.

For it is love that I am seeking for, But of a beautiful, unheard-of kind That is not in the world.

You who are bent, and bald, and blind, With a heavy heart and a wandering mind, Have known three centuries, poets sing, Of dalliance with a demon thing.

What hurts the soul My soul adores

What's left to sigh for, Strange night has come

I sigh that kiss you, For I must own That I shall miss you When you have grown.