Quotes About Longing

How terrible it is to have no cares, no longings. I do not fit. I feel too deeply and want too much. As cages go, it is a gilded one, but I shall not live well in it or any cage, for that matter.

She knew what it was to wait for someone who would never come home. She knew that grief, like a scar, faded but never really went away.

Beneath the skin, there is fear. Pain. Remorse. Yearning. Desire. A fierce longing for power. All of this. We are joined. It is as if we live in the center of a great storm. Around us the world of the realms revolves like a giant kaleidoscope, images refracted again and again. So many worlds! So much to know.

I've never been in love. I will die without knowing what it feels like to need to see one person's face when you go to sleep at night, to crave seeing it when you wake up. I wish I knew.

When I dream, I dream of him.

I don't know why I feel so wounded with Kartik's obvious infatuation with Pippa. There's no romance between us. There's nothing that tethers us but this dark secret neither of us wants. It's not Kartik's longing that hurts. It's my own. It's knowing that I'll never have what she has--a beauty so powerful it brings things to you. I fear I will always have to chase things I want. I'll always have to wonder whether I'm truly wanted or whether I've just been settled for.

Tonight, she went into the woods, and I fear she shall live in the woods of my soul for the rest of my days.

Just once, she'd like to be the exciting one, the girl somebody wanted.

And yet, you're still alone. All that trying and still you stand apart, watching from the other side of the glass. Afraid to have what you truly want because what if it's not enough after all ? So much better to wrap yourself up in the longing. The yearning. The restlessness. Poor Gemma. She doesn't quite fit, does she? Poor Gemma--all alone.

We don't look at each other anymore. Not really. Not since I pulled him from that opium den. Now when I look at him, I see the addict. And when he looks at me, he sees what he would rather not remember. I wish I could be his adored little girl again, sitting at his side.

I have done what they expected of me. I have curtsied for my Queen and made my debut. This is what I have anticipated eagerly for years. So why do I feel so unsatisfied? Everyone is merry. They haven't a care in the world. And perhaps that is it. How terrible it is to have no cares, no longings. I do not fit. I feel too deeply and want too much.

For dreams, too, are ghosts, desires chased in sleep, gone by morning. The longing of dreams draws the dead, and this city holds many dreams.

The desperation meeting the silence with its unmasked wish.

It is the taste of forgetting. Of sleep and dreams with no waking. Never to long or yearn, to struggle or hurt or love or desire ever again. And I understand that this is what it truly means to lose your soul.

It's knowing that I'll never have what she has—a beauty so powerful it brings things to you. I fear I will always have to chase the things I want. I'll always have to wonder whether I'm truly wanted or whether I've just been settled for.

Mabel did deserve to Rest In Peace, and Evie knew she was a terrible person, because of there was any ghost she longed to see, even for just a moment, it was Mabel's.

They're too tired for bathing, but they're not too tired for dreams. For dreams, too, are ghosts, desires chased in sleep, gone by morning. The longing of dreams draws the dead, and the city hall to many dreams.

There's a great big hole in the middle of me, and no matter how hard I try, I can't fill it. I try to keep the awful, empty sadness out, but it keeps coming back in...

I still want to cry when I hear Sam's voice. Sam raised an eyebrow at Evie's jibe. She smiled back.

just don't know how we make this work between us," Alma said quietly. Ling blushed with shame. Sex. It was about sex, or the lack thereof. From the corner of her eye, she watched as Alma laced her beautiful fingers and placed them in her lap. And then Ling forced herself to keep her gaze on the man across the street sweeping his patch of sidewalk. Ling watched the bristles pushing against the wilted flowers and felt as if she, too, were being brushed into the gutter.

Oh, why should it bother her? But it did. It wasn't so much that Evie wanted Jericho as she wanted him to keep wanting her. It was utterly selfish, she knew. More about her vanity than anything else.

My mother spent all of her life seeking the metaphorical home she called "Mercy Street.

He needed a woman. Bad.

She'd wanted love, a husband and children, a home filled with laughter and security, the things she'd never had as a child. She'd stopped even dreaming about them, she realized, and that was the saddest thing of all. But then she'd never really had a chance; she'd fallen in love with the one man she couldn't have, and it appeared that she was one of those women who loved on once in their lifetime