Quotes About Longing

All your life an unattainable ecstasy has hovered just beyond the grasp of your consciousness.

One life was never quite enough for what I had in mind.

He may be out of my life physically, but he'll always be a part of me. I can't let go even if I wanted to.

A longing for the dance stirs in the buried life.

A disquieting loneliness came into my life, but it induced no hunger for friends of longer acquaintance: they seemed now like a salt-free, sugarless diet.

Weep for the lives your wishes never led.

I agree with Schopenhauer that one of the most powerful motives that attracts people to science and art is the longing to escape from everyday life.

From where you are you can hear in Cockle Row in the spring, moonless night, Miss Price, dressmaker and sweetshop-keeper, dream of her lover, tall as the town clock tower, Samson syrup-gold-maned, whacking thighed and piping hot, thunderbolt-bass'd and barnacle-breasted, flailing up the cockles with his eyes like blowlamps and scooping low over her lonely loving hotwaterbottled body.

Lie down, lie easy. Let me shipwreck in your thighs.

Even in our own lives, there are times when we want something so much that we cannot let go of the thought of it. Whether that is an object, a person or a state of mind, whatever it is, we long for it, but it remains out of reach. Then, at the very point where we totally give up and let go of it, we get what we have been wishing for.

I wanted to touch him like he was a bunny, a kitten, something so special and soft your fingertips can't leave it alone.

Gat, my Gat.

It was love, and it hit me so hard I leaned against the screen door that still stood between us, just to stay vertical. I wanted to touch him like he was a bunny, a kitten, something so special and soft your fingertips can't leave it alone. The universe was good because he was in it. I loved the hole in his jeans and the dirt on his bare feet and the scrab on his elbow and the scar that laced through one eyebrow. Gat, my Gat.

It was love, and it hit me so hard I leaned against the screen door that still stood between us, just to stay vertical. I wanted to touch him like he was a bunny, a kitten, something so special and soft your fingertips can't leave it alone. The universe was good because he was in it.

It was love, and it hit me so hard I leaned against the screen door that still stood between us, just to stay vertical. The universe was good because he was in it. I loved the hole in his jeans and the dirt on his bare feet and the scab on his elbow and the scar that laces through one eyebrow. Gat, my Gat.

By now, you know everything about Jackson Clarke, probably way more than anyone on earth wants to hear. This is all I have to add: I still think about him every day. When I see him, my heart jumps up in my chest. I long for him to talk to me, and whenever he even says hello, I feel a thousand times worse than I did before. I wish he was dead. I wish he still liked me.

Adelaide wished to love someone and be loved back. And to love someone and know that it was him she loved, not some idea of him. Maybe that was two wishes. Maybe it was only one.

For Gat with everything, everything. Cady.

Why do you hate yourself?" And before I know it, Gat is lying on the bed next to me. His cold fingers wrap around my hot ones, and his face is close to mine. He kisses me. "Because I want things I can't have," he whispers.

It was love and it hit me so hard I leaned against the screen door that still stood between us,just to stay vertical.I wanted to touch him like he was a bunny,a kitten,something so special and soft your fingertips can't leave it alone.The universe was good because he was in it.I loved the hole in his jeans and the dirt on his bare feet and the scab on his elbow and the scar that laced through one eyebrow.Gat,my Gat.

my whole body sings to be near him,because every movement he makes is charged with electricity.I often think of putting my arms around him or running my fingers along his lips.When I let my thoughts go there the sharp pain of unrequited love invites the migraine in.

I have lost you, Gat, because of how desperately, desperately I fell in love.

It isn't possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.

while beyond the barrier Maurice wandered, the wrong words on his lips and the wrong desires in his heart, and his arms full of air.