Quotes About Longing

I feed my heart with sighs, that's all it asks, I live on tears, I think I'm born to weep; I don't complain of that, since in my state weeping is sweeter than you might believe.

Al' iako ja sam stvor sazdan od zemlje, uporna mi ?ežnja potje?e sa zvijezda." VII

Your Homer is here with me; mute or rather in fact deaf am I, in front of him. But I am happy to gaze upon him and often hug him and, sighing, say, 'Great man, how I would love to hear you!

Fakat ke?ke futbol oynasaym???m; belki de baca??m? Nüzhet'in a?k? kadar yormazd?.

Gelmesinden ba?ka ?ifam yoktur. Gelmezse, yeryüzünde hiç bir güzel canl? ve enteresan ?eyin beni oyalayamayaca??n? dü?ünmenin verdi?i bir ümitsizlik de?heti içinde yerime oturur, gözlerimi buzlu camlar?n yar? karanl?k zemininde oynayan kaderin par?lt?lar?na dikerim.

Ararsa yokum. Ben bir rüyay?m art?k. Arzu ile tekrar görülemem. Haf?zas?nda yadigâr?m.

?air de?ilim ki... sana ne söyleyeyim? Bülbül, çiçek, deniz, ay... bunlar? da m? istemezsin? S. 238

Recall the words of Alan Jones, dean of Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, who writes, "We are impoverished in our longing and devoid of imagination when it comes to our reaching out to others.…We need to be introduced to our longings, because they guard our mystery." Ask yourself what mystery is being guarded by your longing. Are you taking the time to find out? The time for this never appears; it is discovered.

Era completamente diverso con te ed Em, vi teneva sempre in braccio, parlava con voi come foste adulte. Non vado matta per queste cose e gli voglio bene tuttora, ma quando mi abbraccia è diverso da quando lo fa papà. Il mio vero papà è un disastro, ma ogni suo abbraccio mi fa sentire come se non volesse mai lasciarmi andare. Con David sembra sempre che stia domandandosi quando è il momento di lasciarmi andare.

When Cindy left Richard that day, she felt truly alive for the first time. As she flew back to Los Angeles, she thought about moving to San Francisco so she could be closer to Richard; for the first time she realized why she had left her husband and Portland, Oregon: she felt that being with Richard, as near to him as possible, "was my destiny.

She clearly had the gift. Partly, the gift was just plain, old-fashioned love. Partly, it was a questioning intelligence. Real teachers had a kind of longing, a searching excitement of soul. They wanted to find out things. They didn't settle for the old, easy answers. They lived in their minds more than in the world.

When you're that resigned and oppressed you're already dead. It shows the genocide was prepared for too long. I detest this fear. These victims of genocide had been psychologically prepared to expect death just for being Tutsi. They were being killed for so long that they were already dead.

At its best, art is able to do what Fujimura's paintings do: satisfy our deep longing for beauty and communicate profound spiritual, intellectual, and emotional truth about the world that God has made for his glory. Is it any wonder that the best artists are celebrated?

I love night more than day--she is so lovely; But I love night the most because she brings My love to me in dreams which scarcely lie

Ali sada brzam. Pri?e imaju po?etak, trebale bi ?ak imati i sredinu, ali nikad nisam siguran imaju li pri?e kao što je ova doista i kraj; barem ga ne?e biti dok se god osje?am ovako zbog žene koju nisam Vidio, niti dodirnuo, niti govorio s njom ve? tisu?u godina.

When I see a couple of kids And guess he's fucking her and she's Taking pills or wearing a diaphragm, I know this is paradise Everyone old has dreamed of all their lives— Bonds and gestures pushed to one side Like an outdated combine harvester, And everyone young going down the long slide

I have wished you something None of the others would....

It never worked for me. Something to do with violence A long way back, and wrong rewards, And arrogant eternity.

In everyone there sleeps A sense of life lived according to love. To some it means the difference they could make By loving others, but across most it sweeps As all they might have done had they been loved. That nothing cures. An immense slackening ache, As when, thawing, the rigid landscape weeps, Spreads slowly through them — — Philip Larkin, from "Faith Healing," The Complete Poems of Philip Larkin , ed. Archie Burnett (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2012)

Beneath it all, desire of oblivion runs: — Philip Larkin, from "Wants," The Complete Poems of Philip Larkin , ed. Archie Burnett (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2012)

What a wicked game to play To make me feel this way What a wicked thing to do To let me dream of you What a wicked thing to say That you've never felt this way What a wicked thing to do To let me dream of you

You tasted it. Isn't that enough? Of what do you ever get more than a taste? That's all we're given in life, that's all we're given of life. A taste. There is no more.

Desire, desire! I have too dearly bought, With price of mangled mind, thy worthless ware.

Desire is an appetite, quickly sated. Longing is a wound, an opening in the heart or the spirit. Whatever the cause, whatever the duration, it almost always leaves a scar.