Quotes About Longing

Falling in love with you in the Summer Garden in the white nights in Leningrad is the moment that propels me through life.

Do I think she has forgotten me; found a new life? Assumed that I was dead, accepted that I was dead. Alexander shrugged. I think about it all the time. I live inside my heart. But what can I do? I have to move toward her.

Where was he, her Alexander, of once? Was he truly gone? The Alexander of the Summer Garden, of their first Lazarevo days, of the hat in his hands, white toothed, peaceful, laughing, languid, stunning Alexander, had he been left far behind? Well, Tatiana supposed that was only right. For Alexander believed his Tatiana of once was gone, too. The swimming child Tatiana of the Luga, of the Neva, of the River Kama. Perhaps on the surface they were still in their twenties, but their hearts were old.

Tania...» sussurrò Alexander. «Non ti lascerò andare finché non ti avrò avuta abbastanza. Finché non mi avrai scaldato dentro e fuori».

Only one bear eats from this honey pot, Tatia

Tatiana lived for that evening hour with him that propelled her into her future and into the barely formed, painful feelings that she could neither express nor understand. Friends walking in the lucent dusk. There was nothing more she could have from him, and there was nothing more she wanted from him but that one hour at the end of her long day when her heart beat and her breath was short and she was happy.

The Field of Mars, June, death, life, white nights, Dasha, Dimitri, the all came… And went. But there Alexander still was, standing on that street, on that curb, in the sun, looking at her under the elms, looking at provenance across from him provenance in a white dress with red roses, licking her ice cream with red lips, singing. His and only his for one hundred minutes, blink of an eye and gone. It all was.

No! he wanted to cry out. No, Tania, please come back. What can I leave her with, what can I say, what one word can I leave with her, for her? What one word for my wife? "Tatiasha," Alexander called after her. God, what was the curator's name...? She glanced back. "Remember Orbeli-

We've had a minute, Tatiana thought. We had our minutes on the bus. And at Kirov. We had our minutes in Lugo. And in the Summer Garden. Breathless minutes, we had. What we want, she thought, keeping herself from welling up, is eternity.

Up on the roof Tatiana thought about the evening minute, the minute she used to walk out the factory doors, turn her head to the left even before her body turned, and look for his face. The evening minute as she hurried down the street, her happiness curling her mouth upward to the white sky, the red wings speeding her to him, to look up at him and smile.

Tatiana knew that she belonged irrevocably to Alexander. She thought she could extricate herself from him, that she could go on with her life somehow, that he could go on with is. It was all a sham. This wasn't a way of getting over a passing crush on your older sister's swain. This was the moon of Jupiter and the sun of Venus aligning in the sky over her head.

I just don't know how I'm going to survive you, Tatiana.

Someday we'll meet in Lvov, my love and I.

When I was in Colditz, that impenetrable fortress, whittling away my life, I wanted to know this." "Looks like you're still there, Shura." "No," he said. "I'm in New York, a fly on the wall, trying to see you without me.

Harry nearly prayed it wasn't one of her friends who smelled like the beach and books and brine. He inhaled when they stopped for the light, and was simultaneously relieved and agitated to realize, no, it was her.

I have maybe a half-hour before the next surgery. Want to go and get a cup of coffee?" What I want is to meander eight kilometres down the canals with you from Kirov to your Fifth Soviet door. I want to get on the tram with you, the bus with you, sit in the Italian Gardens with you. That is what I want. I will take the cup of coffee in your hospital cafeteria.

Tatiana... Tatiana... Ta... tiana... —Calla, por favor. —No lo olvides. Dondequiera que estés, si puedes mirar al cielo y ver la constelación de Verseo, si ves su sonrisa y oyes cómo el viento estelar susurra tu nombre, sabrás que te estoy llamando para que vuelvas a Lazarevo. —No tendrás que llamarme, soldado —dice Tatiana, apoyando la cara en el brazo deAlexander—. Nunca me iré de aquí.

Me estuviste buscando?», le había preguntado Tatiana una vez, y él había contestado: «Toda la vida».

Te volveré loca —gritó su memoria cuando Tatiana se sentó a respirar la brisa salada de la eternidad en el alféizar de la ventana—. Andarás sonriente por la calle como una mujer normal, pero en tu interior te retorcerás como en la hoguera. No te liberaré, nunca serás libre.»

He's not dead. He is still alive, and while he is alive, he is mine.

He hugged her. "Be strong for me, Tatiana," Alexander said hoarsely. "Save yourself for me." "That's what I do, Shura," Tatiana said. "I save myself for you." Alexander bent to her, but she couldn't even look up. He kissed the top of her hat. They held on for a few more seconds.

She ate it and cried. Soon, he put the melting ice cream away. "Shura," Tatiana whispered, "darling, forget what should have been. Remember all that was." "Tatiasha, babe," Alexander whispered, coming back to bed to be covered, "my one and only wife, forget our age, our splendid youth, forget it all and let our crazy love make us young.

Se mi accadesse qualcosa, Tatia, non preoccuparti del mio corpo. La mia anima non si riunirà al corpo, né raggiungerà Dio. Volerà subito verso di te, a Lazarevo. Io non voglio stare tra gli eroi, né tra i principi, ma solo accanto alla regina del lago Ilmen. Alexander

Le mandò un bacio e sparì, senza guardare Tatiana. E lei sperava disperatamente in un ultimo, fuggevole sguardo. Nella semioscurità avrebbe voluto sentire i suoi occhi dolci su di sé, leggervi la verità che aveva appena negato. Ma lui non la guardò, Tatiana non poté leggere nessuna verità. Vide solo che l'aveva rifiutata.