Quotes About Longing

Because every one of us has our box, a dark chamber stowing the thing that lanced our heart. It contains what you do everything for, strive for, wound everything around you.

It's what we chase but never find. It is the mystery of our lives, the understanding that even when we have everything we want it is one day to leave us. It's the something unseen, the lurking devastation, the darkness that gives our lives dimension.

I couldn't let go of the thought that it had, in fact, been he, restless and moody Heathcliff. Day after day, he floated through all the Wal-Marts in America, searching for me in a million lonely aisles.

First love is never forgotten,' she went on. 'It's the only love that remains fresh and potent for a lifetime. It's the truest and most innocent of loves, exactly because it can never come to fruition. Do you understand what I mean?' 'Not exactly.' 'It never grows old; you see? It's as fleeting as the morning dew, yet it clings to us all our lives.

When You Are Old' by W. B. Yeats, which appeared in 1892.

For my own part, I have never found happiness in love.

a pie so delicate, so luscious, that I hope to be propped up on my dying bed and fed a generous portion. Then I think that I should refuse outright to die, for life would be too good to relinquish.

she kept hoping Mulder and Scully would kiss each other well and good. Having a relationship vicariously through fantasy and excellent scripting was all Aggie had at the moment - and to be honest, it wasn't all that bad. Her imagination was always better than reality...

There's more hunger in the world than love.

Sometimes, when I read a book, I miss the characters when I finish it. When I truly love a book, I read it slowly because I want to remain with those characters. I've experienced the same thing with TV shows and movies. There's no real difference between that and getting attached to a boy from your dreams.

I knew you were meant to kiss girls, but there was something else that you were meant to do first, and I didn't know what that was.

I am going to pull the music from your mouth and furthermore I'll take the orange aching light that splits your ribs when I or any beautiful things come at you.

I know I could love you because at the end of the night I do not want to sleep and risk not meeting you in dreams. Open-eyed, I lie in bed and pretend to see you step toward me to end what has become too quiet, too dark, ever after dawn. from "I Know I Could Love You

how many times have my wishes and my dreams and my prayers for you hidden beneath my breath? how many times have i looked at you, heart in my throat, hands in my pockets, smile on my face, just wanting to say...

Anyone who has ever fallen hard will understand. The magic of those early days, when you are consumed by each other, when your whole body thrums in the presence of this new significant other and aches when you're apart. ~Here To Stay, Mark Edwards

If this is a dream, I'm begging you, don't ever let them wake me.

This insight works especially well for men who long to hear their fathers say the magic words, "I'm proud of you, son." Men who, as kids, did not have the admiration of their dads feel a gaping deprivation; those who did have it long for sweet boyhood moments they can never recapture. That is why, if you want to see a grown man cry, get him to talk about his father.

But I said that you could still want something that is very unlikely to happen.

We all know it. We all know deep down inside that this world is not what it is supposed to be. We all yearn for things to be much better.

It seemed to me that transhumanism was an expression of the profound human longing to transcend the confusion and desire and impotence and sickness of the body, cowering in the darkening shadow of its own decay. This longing had historically been the domain of religion, and was now the increasingly fertile terrain of technology.

I lost my father this past year, and the word feels right because I keep looking for him. As if he were misplaced. As if he could just turn up, like a sock or a set of keys.

How those fires burned that are no longer, how the weather worsened, how the shadow of the seagull vanished without a trace. Was it the end of a season, the end of a life? Was it so long ago it seems it might never have been? What is it in us that lives in the past and longs for the future, or lives in the future and longs for the past? (from "No Words Can Describe It")

What could make me not listen to the music in my heart every time I see you?

Forgive an old man his memories," Pino said. "Some loves never die.