Quotes About Longing

we inherited from our Eden-dwelling ancestors a sense of their pre-Fall happiness. Our hearts refuse to settle for sin, suffering, boredom, and purposelessness—we long for something better. Were we merely the product of natural selection and survival of the fittest, we'd have no grounds for believing any ancient happiness existed. But we are all nostalgic for an Eden we've only seen fleeting hints of. Unfortunately

the video Homesick for Heaven: www.epm.org/homesick

My blood is alive with many voices telling me I am made of longing.

You needed your whole self; and so you went and broke yourself, out of its grip, in pieces,painfully, because your need was great.

You who never arrived in my arms, Beloved, who were lost from the start. I don't even know what songs would please you. I have given up trying to recognize you in the surging wave of the next moment.

I wake up and tear drops, they fall down like rain. I put on that old song we danced to and then, I head off to my job cause not much has changed. Punch the clock, head for home, check the phone. Just in case. Go to bed, dream of you. That's what I am doing these days.

What hurts the most Was being so close And having so much to say And watching you walk away And never knowing What could have been And not seeing that loving you Is what I was tryin' to do

Have you ever loved someone that just dont feel the same. tryin and make somebody care for you the way i do is like tryin to catch the rain, and if love is really forever, i'm a winner at a losing game!

What hurts the most, is being so close. And having so much to say, then watching you walk away...

Oare nu este interesant cum poveÈ™tile, mai noi sau mai vechi, ajung mai devreme sau mai târziu s? vorbeasc? despre ce înseamn? s? iubeÈ™ti È™i s? fii iubit? Ele mediteaz? asupra acestei nevoi vitale pe care o simÈ›im toÈ›i pe parcursul vieÈ›ii noastre. Ne dorim cu ardoare s? È™tim È™i s? simÈ›im c? suntem iubiÈ›i. Tânjim dup? relaÈ›ii semnificative pentru noi, sigure È™i tot mai profunde.

We hunger for pleasure that goes beyond the physical because ultimately we are spiritual beings.

Augustine said, "You [Lord God] have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.

That's life for you, said MacDunn. Someone always waiting for someone who never comes home. Always someone loving some thing more than that thing loves them. And after a while you want to destroy whatever that thing is, so it can't hurt you no more.

That's life for you, said McDunn. Someone always waiting for someone who never comes home. Always someone loving some thing more than that thing loves them. And after a while you want to destroy whatever that thing is, so it can't hurt you no more.

I was only twelve. But I knew how much I loved her. It was that love that comes before all significance of body and morals. It was that love that was no more bad than wind and sea and sand lying side by side forever. It was made of all the warm long days together at the beach, and the humming quiet days of droning education at the school. All the long Autumn days of the years past when I carried her books home from school.

We have everything we need to be happy, but we aren't happy,Something's missing!

I'm the thing you most desire, you represent the thing I least desire, death. It's just the opposite of love.

How do you get so empty? he wondered. Who takes it out of you? And that awful flower the other day, the dandelion! It had summed up everything, hadn't it? "What a shame! You're not in love with anyone!" And why not?

Quietly she wished he might one day again spend as much time holding and touching her like a little harp as he did his incredible books.

He almost turned back to make the walk again, to give her time to appear. He was certain if he tried the same route, everything would work out fine.

Have a drink? I don't need it, said Halloway. But someone inside me does. Who? The boy I once was, thought Halloway, who runs like the leaves down the sidewalk autumn nights. But he couldn't say that. So he drank, eyes shut, listening to hear if that thing inside turned over again, rustling in the deep bons that were stacked for burning but never burned.

I memorized all of "John Carter" and "Tarzan," and sat on my grandparents' front lawn repeating the stories to anyone who would sit and listen. I would go out to that lawn on summer nights and reach up to the red light of Mars and say, "Take me home!" I yearned to fly away and land there in the strange dusts that blew over dead-sea bottoms toward the ancient cities.

Leaning into the wall as if all of the hunger of looking would find the secret of her sleepless unease there.

That's life for you, said McDunn. Someone always waiting for someone who never comes home. Always someone loving some thing more than that thing loves them. And after a while you want to destroy whatever that thing is, so it can hurt you no more.