Quotes About Longing

Talia was the realization of his fantasies, his darkest dreams. The ones that begged for The Little Death over and over

Sera, I presume?" he said and her bones melted at the sound of his deep voice pronouncing her name. She nodded and held out her hand. He raised a dark eyebrow in her direction and didn't take it. She lowered it again, feeling like a fool for thinking he would touch her, a turned human, and for the first time since she could remember, her gaze didn't want anything to do with him.

Don't love me," he said. "Don't." "There is no do or don't," Juliana whispered. The mists dissolved and the rain came down faster. "I love you because I love you. I can't help that." His embrace nearly crushed her, his strong body shaking. "Never stop. Never stop loving me, Juliana." "I never will.

Bid me come, and here I am. Shape my being, and for a short time I can move mortal air in and out of my chest. Ask me to love you, Bright Light, and you make real a dream-giver's deepest desire.

That is why I brought you here, to keep you with me, where you can please make . . . everything . . . stop.

One travels long distances not solely for large gatherings, but for something more intangible. I have always gone out on a limb for love. A dangerous, romantic, disappointing way to live.

It was intensely infuriating the way it always is when you call a man you shouldn't be calling.

Dear God, you are beautiful. I tried to forget, to pretend I did not need you, but it was no use. You haunt my waking hours and my dreams, and though I know if I stay with you my soul my soul will be lost and my life damned, I cannot stay away, nor can I put you from me. So come and let me drown in your bewitching angel's eyes. Some things bought dearly are worth the price.

She moistened her lips. "I only thought, that is, I am so confined, so endlessly guarded. I sometimes feel desperate to be free of it. It seems that there would be no need for such close watch if I were no longer… chaste.

As much as he needed the sweet surcease to be had in her body, he yearned to know her mind, to seek deep within it and sense a welcome for him there. He wanted to share her thoughts, her dreams, her secrets. He wanted her to come to him with desire, to reach inside him and discover how open he was to her.

know what it is to want something so badly, you feel like your cells aren't properly bonded together without it. At any moment you might just crumble apart.

It's kind of amazing, how nostalgic you can feel for memories that never actually happened.

I remember the longing inside my head, [her] beautiful letters, mine, my fingers tracing the ridges of consonants, questions and postscripts littering margins, uncontainable form, the page a stage for candor. To know another is the terrible work of love, is it not? — Jennifer Chang, from "In the Middle of My Life," The American Poetry Review (September/October 2021, vol. 50, no.5)

She would almost prefer to fold her arms and sink into an eternal slumber, so that the great longing of her soul for peaceful rest would at last be gratified.

A trip to Paris had sounded so adventurous when I was first talking about it a year earlier. People spoke about the city with dreamy longing, as though Paris possessed a magic that could not be found elsewhere. I'd never heard anyone talk about Paris without sighing. The city was a Promised Land that held appeal for most everyone: artists, lovers, even people who just liked cheese.

The feeling that you want to own someone body and soul, spirit them away from everyone else, have them all to yourself forever and ever and ever," Hugo said dreamily. "It's called love." "No, it's called kidnapping," said Tavi.

The guitar's still around me. I slip it off and put it down. I want to feel him. To feel his breath on my neck. The warmth of his skin. To feel something other than sadness. Hold me, I tell him silently. Hold me here. To this place. This life. Make me want you. Want this. Want something. Please

There is a ghost here. A lonely, heartbroken spirit. The ghost of everything that could've been and never was.

I did not want His cold love. I wanted human love—clasping, selfish, and hot. I wanted to smell the rank sweat of the men… I wanted love—reeking, drunken, hungry love.

Sometimes it's easier to say that you hate what you can't have rather than admit how badly you want it.

He had known the rarest of things -love, real love - he'd held it in his hand and he'd thrown it away. What was left for him? A lifetime of second-bests

It was a trick. It was this place, all the memories. His longing heart and the darkness conspiring. But his eyes told him it was no trick. He jumped down off the steps and walked toward her. Hoping. Fearing. He'd done this before. So many times. Caught sight of a slender black-haired woman and impulsively called to her, only to have her turn and gaze at him with eyes that were questioning, coldly polite, and never, ever hers.

It was more than a book, more than a story. It was like nothing she'd ever known. And everything she'd ever wanted.

His arms around her felt like nothing she'd ever known and everything she'd ever wanted.