Quotes About Longing

En la pausa antes de escuchar tu voz tuve la certeza que te quería como te sigo queriendo y te voy a querer siempre, pase lo que pase

I know the answer now, and that knowledge absolutely coexists with a terrible longing for the mother love I never had and never will have.

We must try again to be alive to what the people of our country really long for in our national life: forgiveness and grace, maturity and wisdom. ...Our political leaders will know our priorities only if we tell them, again and again, and if those priorities begin to show up in the polls.

Sandi couldn't bear to read about other people falling in love and having babies while her own arms and worms were so painfully empty.

He hadn't eaten a bite of breakfast, sex always made him hungry. Suddenly Matt realized he was starving.

I want to fly from a window and pour through the air like a wind of love to raise his hair and slide into the palms of his hands.

My love for you won't stop with my leaving. Come an evening over the years, when you step outside your door and hear the wind blowing through the cottonwoods, that'll be me, thinking of you, whispering your name, and loving you.

A heartfire, Clementine my darlin', is when you want someone, when you need her so damn bad, not only in your bed but in your life, that you're willin' to burn--".

Shay," she said. "Shay McKenna," as if trying out his name, saying it for the first time. "Did you ever love me, even a little?" Love you?" He turned his head and brushed his lips across her fingers. "I'm loving you now, mo chridh. After I'm dead, a thousand years from now, whatever's left of me, be it a soul or just a handful of dust, that will be loving you.

The sad truth was that he feared he would never marry and have a family of his own. Meg was the only woman since his wild youth that made his blood sing. She was the only woman who made him want to be better, stronger. She was the only woman whose spirit cried out to him. For her sake, no matter how much he suffered, he had to ignore the call.

O Atlântico é uma cama de plumas de cisne, o futuro é feito de plumas e nuvens e Sarangerel. (...) Uma vida inteira a sonhar com uma pessoa, imaginando um leito de plumas de cisne tão macio, ou a sombra acariciante de um coqueiro.

Mas me concedam, ó deuses inexistentes e apesar disso cruéis, a consolação de falar uma hora com ela e de poder contemplar aquele rosto redondo de Lua Cheia.

I could suddenly get a longing to be in a place where there was only silence. Years might go by and I did not think about it, but that does not mean that I did not long to be there. And now I am here, and it is almost exactly as I had imagined it.

All my life I have longed to be alone in a place like this. Even when everything was going well, as it often did. I can say that much. That it often did. I have been lucky. But even then, for instance in the middle of an embrace and someone whispering words in my ear I wanted to hear, I could suddenly get a longing to be in a place where there was only silence.

And though I missed my lover, I was not sad. I was satisfied. I was different.

The desire of the moth for the star,Of the night for the morrow,The devotion to something afarFrom the sphere of our sorrow.

Let me set my mournful dittyTo a merry measure;Thou wilt never come for pity,Thou wilt come for pleasure.

I arise from dreams of theeIn the first sweet sleep of night,When the winds are breathing low,And the stars are shining bright.

We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell Of saddest thought. Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever Should come near.

I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear,— Till death like sleep might steal on me And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.

The desire of the moth for the star

I can give not what men call love; But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And the heavens reject not: The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow?

Kiss me, so long but as a kiss may last! ? Percy Bysshe Shelley, from "Adonais: An Elegy on the Death of John Keats," Adonaïs: An Elegy on the Death of John Keats, Author of Endymion, Hyperion, etc . (1821)

I think one is always in love with something or other