Quotes About Longing

A powerful king has taken my heart, she thought. But a penniless boy has stolen it.

As she worked, she worried about empty wagons and empty bellies. She needn't have, though. The stomach is easily satisfied. It's the hunger in our hearts that kills us.

All I'd need is a minute. Not major time. Not the kind of time it takes to compose a symphony. Build a palace. Fight a war. Just a few crappy seconds. The kind of time it takes to tie a shoe. Peel a banana. Blow your nose. But I haven't got it. And I never will.

A lo largo de su vida siempre había querido y amado lo que no debía. Lo que le rompía el corazón. Todo aquello no era para ella, el mundo se lo había dicho. Entonces ¿para qué pedirlo? No serviría más que para hacerle daño de nuevo.

the hunger that hides in our hearts is the one that kills us" ~Isabelle, Step sister

Nevermore wants me," she whispered aloud. "It wants me to stay." The thought scared her. But what scared her even more was how much she wanted Nevermore.

It's the hunger in our hearts that kills us.

I understand I can't have you. But I want to know you're in the world with me.

My knee radiated heat. As I watched him pull himself from the car and walk casually across the brightly lit parking lot, I thought dumb things. I will never wash my knee again. I will never wash these jeans again. I will cut the knee out of these jeans and sew a pillow to sleep on every night, just to have a molecule of him in my bed with me.

His dark eyes challenged me. They were weapons that could hurt me. Here was the worst thing about them: I could tell that if Johnafter loved you, his dark eyes would be beautiful and friendly and warm. So every time he cut me down with a look that was cold and unfriendly and ugly, it was a double insult, a reminder of what I could never have. I found myself avoiding his dark eyes when I could.

This was about to go very bad, because Adam was going to cry. "I miss you," he said, and his voice broke.

I'll admit,I may have carried a torch for him all these years.He just blew it out.

Hunter deepened it.

What I'm Afraid Of: [...] That I'm a grown-up woman coming back to this place after many years. That my parents are gone, and our house isn't ours anymore. It's a broken-down ruin with no one in it. Living here all together was so sweet. Even when we fought. It felt like it would never end. I'll always miss it.

As she worked, Anna glanced occasionally at the Flossie Flirt doll wedged at the end of a shelf. She had wanted one so violently two years ago that some of her desperation seemed to have broken off and stayed inside her. It was strange and painful to discover that old longing now, in this place.

wishes she were daring, risqué, all the things she has never been and will never be.

Nostalgia was the end—everyone knew that.

STEPHEN O'CONNOR Next to Nothing

Agnes felt her daughter's impatience that she go, and it made her want to cleave, as if holding Anna would somehow awaken in her daughter the need to be held. Agnes clasped her fiercely, trying through sheer force to open the folded part of Anna, so deeply recessed.

Bernadette longs for this moment as if it had already passed, as if it could have been. Yet here it is.

You will feel a surge as the data floods your body. The surge may contain memory, heat, cold, longing, pain, or even joy. Although the data are alien, the memories dislodged will be your own…

Redemption, transformation--God how she wanted these things. Every day, every minute. Didn't everyone?

Quote from "The Whole World Is Gone" ".... It's sensual, though, too, and interestingly mental. What I do alone, loving him in my mind. Trying not to let imagination win over reality. Hurtling through the night passions so spent become facts one observes. Not tempered, just momentarily out of view by the body that perceives them. Turning that into my prayer: to be deprived.

He kissed her hungrily, as if for nourishment. Later it would seem to him an act of cannibalism; the law he violated seemed nearly that ancient. But that night he was beyond reason, a man too long starved.