Quotes About Longing

Thou hast left thy memory as a flame to my lonely lamp of separation

She wants neither land nor a house. She'll die if she can't see you.

Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up from my dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange smell in the south wind. That vague fragrance made my heart ache with longing, and it seemed to me that it was the eager breath of the summer seeking for its completion. — Rabindranath Tagore, from "iii," Poetry (December 1912)

I know who visits your dream, Dark One. Say her name. Her smile streaks like lightning through clouds of sleep. ?y?ma, she has nothing with which to repay you. Such impatience, biha?ga! Don't wake my sleeping ?y?ma. And you, moon, pour down your cold milk on the sun's too early fire.

I lose thee, to find thee back again and again, My beloved. Thou leavest me, that I may receive thee all the more, when thou returnest. Thou canst vanish behind the moment's screen Only because thou art mine for evermore, My beloved. When I go in search of thee, my heart trembles, spreading ripples across my love. Thou smilest through thy disguise of utter absence, and my tears sweeten thy smile.

You smiled and talked to me of nothing and I felt that for this I had been waiting long.

but personally, he could never be anywhere without sooner or later wanting to go somewhere else... Likewise he had never been able to build anything permanent with other human beings.

I imagine the corruption of myself running through her tracts, into her veins and recesses. I long to withdraw my sting from her innocent body.

It was nearly thirty years since his first marriage ended, and the further he got from that life, the more real it became to him. Or not real exactly, he said – what had happened since had been real enough. The word he was looking for was authentic: his first marriage had been authentic in a way that nothing ever had again. The older he got, the more it represented to him a kind of home, a place to which he yearned to return.

Is it wrong to want things that you can't give me?

I said a lot of people spent their lives trying to make things last as a way of avoiding asking themselves whether those things were what they really wanted.

Tive a sensação de que poderia nadar quilômetros, até o alto-mar; um desejo de liberdade, um impulso de me mover me puxava como se fosse um fio amarrado no meu peito. Era um impulso que eu conhecia bem, e havia aprendido que não era o chamado de um mundo maior, como eu antes acreditava que fosse. Era simplesmente um desejo de escapar do que eu tinha. O fio não conduzia a lugar nenhum exceto a vastidões de anonimato que não paravam de crescer.

Once Agnes had been in love and since then she had been in pain.

More – life,' he said, opening his hands in a gesture of receipt. 'And more affection,' he added, after a pause. 'I wanted more affection.

the idea of L ever coming to where I was and looking at it through his own eyes, which would have taken that consummation to a point of finality and given me – or so I believed – a version of the freedom I had wanted my whole life.

I felt that I could swim for miles, out into the ocean: a desire for freedom, an impulse to move, tugged at me as though it were a thread fastened to my chest. It was an impulse I knew well, and I had learned that it was not the summons from a larger world I used to believe it to be. It was simply a desire to escape from what I had.

Talvez que o amor da morte seja como o amor por homem, e a gente só se satisfaça, só se console e se cure depois de possuída e extenuada.

I know. I know I've been a jerk, and I don't have a good excuse. But touching you and loving you, and knowing you were planning to leave me, made me crazy. After we made love the second time, I began to think maybe you'd decide to stay with me. I started to think about you and me waking up every day together for the rest of our lives. I even thought about kids and taking some of those breathing classes when you got pregnant. Maybe buying one of those mini-vans.

You don't look at Ann the way you looked at her." "How's that?" "Like you could look at her for the rest of your life.

Why did I ever think I would get enough of you?

Since I moved back to Truly," he said, "I've felt as if I were standing in one place, unable to move. But I wasn't standing still. I was waiting. I think I was waiting for you.

Standing so close, he realized how much he missed her, but looking into her cold, indifferent gaze, he realized something else; it just might be too late.

I only know that you are the breath in my lungs, the beat of my heart, the ache in my soul, and without you, I am empty.

I didn't want to be there. I wanted to be here.