Quotes About Longing

ominously—a love more binding than physical affection, some tar-pit of the soul where I might flop around and malinger for years.

It was better never to have been born - never to have wanted anything, never to have hoped for anything.

Every new event - everything I did for the rest of my life - would only separate us more and more: days she was n longer a part of, an ever-growing distance between us. Every single day for the rest of my life, she would only be further away.

But despite the gloss and sparkle of the job (champagne breakfasts, gift bags from Bergdorf's) the hours were long and there was a hollowness at the heart of it that-I knew-made her sad.

And what is beauty? Terror. And if beauty is terror, then what is desire? To live. To live forever.

While I was still in Amsterdam, I dreamed about my mother for the first time in years.

At home in bed, in my private abyss of longing, the scenes I dreamed of always began like this.

love more binding than physical affection, some tar-pit of the soul where I might flop around and malinger for years.

Because I love Henry. Henry's dead. I can't help it. I still love him.

and though it's a bleak thing to admit all these years later, still I've never met anyone who made me feel loved the way she did.

And the flavor of Pippa's kiss- bittersweet and strange- stayed with me all the way back uptown, swaying and sleepy as I sailed home on the bus, melting with sorrow and loveliness, a starry ache that lifted me up above the windswept city like a kite: my head in the rainclouds, my heart in the sky.

Caring too much for objects can destroy you. Only-- if you care for a thing enough, it takes on a life of its own, doesn't it? And isn't the whole point of things--beautiful things--that they connect you to come larger beauty? Those first images that crack your heart wide open and you spend the rest of your life chasing, or trying to recapture, in one way or another?...

I have been in love with no one, and never shall," she whispered, "unless it should be with you." How

The world cannot satisfy the heart, because the heart is too large for the object.

Oh joy! oh delight! should we go without dying, No sickness, no sadness, no dread and no crying. Caught up through the clouds with our Lord into glory, When Jesus receives "His own." O Lord Jesus, how long, how long Ere we shout the glad song, Christ returneth! Hallelujah! hallelujah! Amen, Halleljah! Amen. "Christ Returneth" —H. L. Thrner

The reality hits hard when one wants to pick up the phone to share some experience only to remember that the loved one is not at the other end.

Never having something is different than having something and losing it.

It would be like someone . . . looking over to Clee Hills, reflects that Housman had stood in that place, regretting his land of lost content. And, at such a time, for a few of us there will always be a tugging at the heart—knowing a precious moment gone and we not there.

We can ask and ask but we can't have again what once seemed ours for ever - the way things looked, that church alone in the fields, a bed on a belfry floor, a remembered voice, the touche of a hand, a loved face. They've gone and you can only wait for the pain to pass.

And, at such a time, for a few of us there will always be a tugging at the heart—knowing a precious moment had gone and we not there. We can ask and ask but we can't have again what once seemed ours for ever—the way things looked, that church alone in the fields, a bed on belfry floor, a remembered voice, a loved face. They've gone and you can only wait for the pain to pass.

All this searching and longing for the secret of being a good man, and all I needed to do was follow the example of one very good woman.

Sometimes I felt so alone that I wish there were a bigger, longer word for alone. I tried to tell Grandma about this feeling, about my suspicion that life was nicking away pieces of me.

I miss you. I miss you so fucking bad it hurts, but I don't know how to find you even though you're right in front of me.

Say the word. Say the word and I won't go. Say the word, Qhuinn. Do it and I'll spend the night with you. Better yet, why don't you just kiss me-