Quotes About Longing

Te iubesc, Guido. Te iubesc, întotdeauna dup? o muie. Era una din sentin?ele lui Knut.

Lei ansima, il collo torto verso il soffitto rotto, e lui la guarda. E forse la guardava così, con la stessa tenerezza, la stessa nostalgia, mentre facevano l'amore.

Tienimi! Vieni quando ti pare, una volta al mese, una volta all'anno. Ma tienimi.

but when she looked into his eyes, those dark velvet brown eyes, Arabella saw something of tenderness. And for all that she should have known better, for all of her common sense, she felt the stirrings of old feelings that she had thought never to feel again.

Well, my dear, take heart. Some day, I will kiss you and you will like it. But not now, so I beg you not to be too impatient.

Perhaps - I want the old days back again and they'll never come back, and I am haunted by the memory of them and of the world falling about my ears.

She wanted Adam Fox with the fervour of parched earth thirsting for water, corn aching for the warmth of ripening sun, a starving skeleton drooling over a crust of bread. Her passionate young body yearned to feel his touch, soft lips quivered an invitation to be kissed, wounded eyes promised a lifetime of devotion, if only . . .

He wanted to see this woman writhe in pleasure, wanted to be the only man to cause it. More than anything he wanted her to need him.

Ingo was a fever, and so far she hadn't found the antidote.

Really, the insufferable conceit of the man. How dared he have the unutterable gall to know how her knees weakened at the sight of him, how she felt full of life and spirit when he was with her, how his very touch sent fire coursing through her veins in a way she hadn't known existed outside the pages of lending-library novels!

If you become a bird and fly away from me, I will be a tree that you come home to.

I feel at home, choosing to live inside my own imagination, savage and natural, yet I also long to be honest about my desire to love and be loved. Am I an unearthly creature, part vampire, part werewolf? Or perhaps... poetry is my beastly mind's only curse.

He will make any woman happy a little while and then unhappy a long while.

We all of us go about, she meant to tell him but was too occupied, wanting to be wanted but unsure why anybody should bother.

There is a bird in my chest with wings too broad with beak that rips me wanting to get out. I have called it an idiot parrot. I have called it a ravening eagle. But it sings. Bird of no name your cries are red and wet on the iron air. I open my mouth to let you out and your shining blinds me.

I love you. I really do. As I am now, with these last five years behind me, I am a person who is quite terribly in love with you and will always be – or so I think now, today, in this taxi.

George Abbershaw's prosaic mind quivered on the verge of poetry when he looked at her.

It is only, she thought, that I thought you brought my bear, and life lit up for a moment. And now it is returned to its usual dimness, which truly I had thought was bright enough for me.

A heart may desire a thing powerfully indeed, but that heart's desire might be what a person least needs, for her health, for her continuing happiness.

...as long as nothing happens between them, the memory is cursed with what hasn't happened.

as long as nothing happens between them, the memory is cursed with what hasn't happened.

He says he's lonely, horribly lonely because of this love he feels for her. She says she's lonely too. She doesn't say why.

She had lived her early years as though she were waiting for something she might, but never did, become.

I am dead. I have no desire for you. My body no longer wants the one who doesn't love.