Quotes About Longing

My 20s were all about feeling desperate. Desperate to find a new boyfriend. Desperate to get the perfect job. Desperate to get rid of this terrible relationship with this bad new boyfriend.

You're terrified that nothing will ever give you the fulfillment that dancing has given you.

I've always been terrified of dying, always. It was a concern of mine long before it had to be.

Some days I end up thinking I really wish I was in the car - ike the Sonoma test, the boys tested it and I really missed driving the car there. But there are other days that I dont miss it.

I want to cry in your arms for a hundred years; I want to wake up in your arms for a hundred years.

She has a look," I said, "of not altogether belonging to today.

Summer is the worst time of all to be alone. The earth is warm and lovely, free to go about in; and always somewhere in the distance there is a place where two people might be happy if only they were together. It is in the spring that one dreams of such places; one thinks of the summer which is coming, and the heart dreams of its friend.

Most people want to be delivered from temptation but would like it to keep in touch.

It can feel heavy with longing, and heavy with longing, in my mind, is preferable to hollow, which one also feels. If I'm heavy with longing, at least I have some idea of what I want.

Sometimes I wish I could go back to when I was younger, when the future was filled with hope and possibility. I love it. I really love it so much. I often try to convince myself that I am back—that I'm in my youth and my family and friends are around me, and we're all looking forward to the future.

romantic ambitions, there wasn't even such a place for her

Crimson nor yellow roses nor The savor of the mounting sea Are worth the perfume I adore That clings to thee. The languid-headed lilies tire, The changeless waters weary me; I ache with passionate desire Of thine and thee. There are but these things in the world— Thy mouth of fire, Thy breasts, thy hands, thy hair upcurled And my desire.

When acted upon, hunger is a powerful emotion that is both exploitive and destructive to others. People mistakenly identify this desperate feeling with love and think of this primal longing as genuine affection.

HUNGER AND THE MYTH OF FAMILY LOVE

Listening to music, I always have exactly the same feeling: something's missing. Never will I learn the cause of this gentle sadness, never will I wish to investigate it.

Underlying it all is the happiness delusion. As the Buddha emphasized, our ongoing attempts to feel better tend to involve an overestimation of how long "better" is going to last. What's more, when "better" ends, it can be followed by "worse"—an unsettled feeling, a thirst for more. Long before psychologists were describing the hedonic treadmill, the Buddha saw it.

One of the Buddha's main messages was that the pleasures we seek evaporate quickly and leave us thirsting for more. We spend our time looking for the next gratifying thing—the next powdered-sugar doughnut, the next sexual encounter, the next status-enhancing promotion, the next online purchase. But the thrill always fades, and it always leaves us wanting more.

One of the Buddha's main messages was that the pleasures we seek evaporate quickly and leave us thirsting for more.

Yo me dejo estar. Pienso, no, no pienso, mejor dicho, recibo de mi adentro una nostalgia dulce, un sufrimiento más dulce que una incertidumbre de amor. Y

No tendremos nunca contacto sexual. Para hacer más duradero nuestro amor, refrenaremos el deseo, y tampoco la besaré en la boca, sino en la mano.

Me verá una doncella, una niña alta, pálida y concentrada, que por capricho maneje su Rolls-Royce. Paseará tristemente. De pronto me mira y comprende que yo seré el único amor de toda la vida, y esa mirada que era un ultraje para todos los desdichados, se posará en mí, cubiertos los ojos de lágrimas. El ensueño se desenroscaba sobre

Y sin embargo, yo necesito amar a alguien, darme forzosamente a alguien.

One night I dreamed of an angel: I walked into a huge, empty bar and saw him sitting in a corner with his elbows on the table and a cup of milky coffee in front of him. She's the love of your life, he said, looking up at me, and the force of his gaze, the fire in his eyes, threw me right across the room. I started shouting, Waiter, waiter, then opened my eyes and escaped from that miserable dream. Other nights I didn't dream of anyone, but I woke up in tears.

I try to find the books that I lost or forgot more than 30 years ago on another continent, with the hope and dedication and bitterness of those who search for their first lost books, books that if found I wouldn't read anyway, because I've already read them over and over, but that I would look at and touch just as the miser strokes the coins under which he's buried...Books are like ghosts