Quotes About Longing

I turn on my side and close my eyes. What must it be like, to have a boy like you so much he cries for you? And not just any boy. Josh. Our Josh. To answer her question: yes, I think I have been in real love. Just once, though. With Josh. Our Josh.

It feels strange to have spent so much time wishing for something, for someone, and then one day, suddenly, to just stop.

I'm standing there in the open door and the thought flies in my head, so quick, so unexpected, I can't stop myself from thinking it: If you were mine, I would never have broken up with you, not in a million years.

I like you so much I don't know what to do with it. My heart beats so fast when I know I'm going to see you again.

Do you like Cam?" the girl asked me casually. I wondered how she knew him—I thought he'd been a nobody just like me. "I barely even know him," I told her, and her face relaxed. She was relieved. I recognized that look in her eyes—dreamy and hopeful. It must have been the way I looked when I used to talk about Conrad, used to try to think of ways to insert his name into conversation. It made me sad for her, for me.

I could survive for months, years, on a crush. It was like food. It could sustain me.

Peter's gone away on his training weekend. It's only been one day and I'm already longing for him the way I long for Christmas in July. Peter is my cocoa in a cup, my red mittens, my Christmas morning feeling. He

I always wanted a dog with a bangs

That I miss her. I really miss her. She's only been gone for two months, but it feels like longer. And it also feels like it just happened, like yesterday.

The old pull, the tide drawing me back in. I kept getting caught in this current—first love, I mean. First love kept making me come back to this, to him. He still took my breath away, just being near him. I had been lying to myself the night before, thinking I was free, thinking I had let him go. It didn't matter what he said or did, I'd never let him go. I

I want to say yes, but I don't want to be with a boy whose heart belongs to somebody else. Just once, I want to be somebody's first choice.

En este momento me doy cuenta que no lo amo, que no lo he hecho por un tiempo. Que tal vez nunca lo hice. Porque él está ahí y es mío si lo quiero, lo podría besar otra vez, podría hacerlo mío. Pero no lo quiero. Quiero a alguien más. Se siente raro haber gastado tanto tiempo deseando algo, a alguien, y luego un día, de repente, solo se detiene.

Do you know what it's like to like someone so much you can't stand it and know that they'll never feel the same way?

I wish that things could go back to the way they were between us. That you could be you and I could be me, and we'd have fun with each other, and it would be a really sweet first romance that I'll remember my whole life.

In the whole history of my letters, of my liking boys, not once has a boy liked me back at the same time as I liked him. It was always me alone, longing after a boy, and that was fine, that was safe

It's torturous standing there in front of him, waiting—for what, I don't know.

A veces me gustas tanto que no puedo soportarlo. Me llena internamente, todo el camino hasta el borde, y siento como si pudiera desbordarme. Me gustas tanto que no sé qué hacer. Mi corazón late muy rápido cuando sé que voy a verte de nuevo. Y luego, cuando me miras como lo haces, me siento como la chica más afortunada del mundo.

The only person I wanted was Susannah. She was the only one.

I'd nursed a crush on Conrad for whole school years. I could survive for months, years, on a crush. It was like food. It could sustain me. If Conrad was mine, there was no way I'd break up with him over a summer-or a school year, for that matter.

I wished for Conrad on every birthday, every shooting star, every lost eyelash, every penny in a fountain was dedicated to the one I loved...

Longing is its own kind of perverse delight.

Jag ville inte att min kärlek en dag skulle slockna som en fallande stjärna. Jag ville att den skulle brinna för alltid.

I realised it suddenly. I missed him. All this time. When you got to the underneath of it, there it was. There it had always been. And even though he was sitting there only feet away, I missed him more than ever.

I felt it a week before we left, every time. And then of course, when the time came, I was never ready to leave. I wanted to stay forever.