Quotes About Longing

She felt guilty, as she had when she'd heard Matt's deep, beloved voice after thirty-odd years. She'd been too flustered to say much to him, and in the end, regretfully, she'd hung up on him out of sheer embarrassment.

There is a song, Noreen, he said tenderly. It was nominated for an Academy Award. I can't sing, enamorada, but the words say that when a man loves a woman, really loves her, he can see his unborn children in her eyes. - To my shame, I saw my sons in your eyes the day I found you in the kitchen at your aunt's house, he whispered, watching her face color. And I was married. What a living hell it was, to know such a sin and be unable to repent it. (Diana Palmer)

I've loved you, as long as I've know you. Wanted you. Needed you. But I hit rock bottom when I had to let you go. I thought I lost you, life had no meaning for me -Wolf Patterson-

Emma drew in the dirt with a stick, making curlicues and unconsciously tracing Connor's initials. GC. GC. She frowned. She wondered if he had a middle name. She'd never asked. "Emma!

Her green eyes went up to the sky. Well, it wasn't such a very bad place to die, she mused as drowsiness swept over her. She was near Winthrop, even though he didn't care anymore. Maybe he'd bury her here, and she'd be near him forever…

Diana Palmer

Ann left him there, kneeling among the violets looking out into the fog as if that glimpse of the castle had somehow broken his heart.

How I long to hold your face like a bouquet and inhale the mysterious scent of your dreams when the summer grass is green as a dye.

Ordinary people, untwins, seek their soulmate, take lovers, marry. Tormented by their incompleteness they strive to be part of a pair.

L'appetit vient en mangeant. Appetite comes by eating. Your appetite will come back, but it must be met halfway. You must want it to come.

They were like amputees, only it was not a limb they were missing, but their very souls.

I pushed my pile of papers to one side, stroked Shadow and stared into the fire, longing for the comfort of a story where everything had been planned well in advance, where the confusion of the middle was invented only for my enjoyment, and where I could measure how far away the solution was by feeling the thickness of pages still to come. I had no idea how many pages it would take to complete the story of Emmeline and Adeline, nor even whether there would be time to complete it.

She's not coming back. No. He knew it was true. He had the feeling that the world might easily stop turning without the girl in it. Every hour was arduous, and when it was over, you had to start again with a new one, no better. He wondered how long he would be able to keep it going.

He saw her not here in this room and not now in this hour but in the infinity of memory.

She stares up- and downriver in search of something. Something she longs for. Something she has been expecting every day, and every day it doesn't come, and still she waits and still she looks and still she yearns, but the hope dwindles with every day that passes. Now she waits hopelessly.

so don't tell me how love will rescue me, I was carnivorous about love, I ate love to the ankles, my thighs are gnawed with love still and yet I cannot have loved, since living was all I could do and for that, I was caged in bone spur endlessly

Everything in the least connected with him has value for me; if someone even mentions his name it is like a little present to me-and I long to mention it myself

Everything in the least connected with him has value for me; if someone even mentions his name it is like a little present to me--and I long to mention it myself, I start subjects leading up to it, and then feel myself going red. I keep swearing to myself not to speak of him again- and then an opportunity occurs and I jump at it.

it seemed an awful waste that we weren't in love with each other.

But the happiness you hoped to win for me will never be mine.

So much of me longs to run after him and cry, 'Yes, yes, yes!' A few hours ago, when I wrote I could never mean anything to him, such a chance would have seemed heaven on earth. And surely I could give him - a sort of contentment? That isn't enough to give. Not for the giver.

I had found out in that glittering corridor off the ballroom that being with him could be more painful than being away from him.

It was so nice that Simon was here for it - tell him I enjoyed every minute - ' it was glorious writing that - almost like telling him I was glad he'd kissed me. But after I'd posted the letter I was worried in case he guessed what I'd meant.

And they are like a drug, one needs them oftener and oftener and has to make them more and more exciting - until at last one's imagination won't work at all.