Quotes About Longing

Deseó amar a alguien hasta el punto de que le doliera.

Landscape is my mistress - t'is to her that I look for fame - and all that the warmth of the imagination renders dear to man

Two evils, monstrous either one apart,Possessed me, and were long and loath at going:A cry of Absence, Absence, in the heart,And in the wood the furious winter blowing.

Why, what is it, how can flesh and blood come up with such stuff, how can flesh feel it. My lord life is strange. How is that Meaning comes to be? How? How does life cast it up, shape it, exude it; how does Meaning come to have physical, tangible effects, to be felt with a shock, to cause grief or longing, come to be sought for like food; pure Meaning having nothing to do with the clothes of persons or events in which it is dressed and yet not ever divorceable from some set of such clothes?

So few of us, she thought, so much love and so few to spend it on, no wonder we get tangled up.

First she wanted to taste the sweat that shone on his throat and fragile clavicle; then he chose to undo the tails of her shirt, that she had tied up beneath her breasts; then, but then impatient they forgot about taking turns and quarreled silently, eagerly over each other, like pirates dividing treasure long sought, long imagined, long withheld. In

I couldn't weep here, any more than I could hope. Of course he couldn't stay: and much as I wanted him by me, I wanted even more that my friend have what he wanted for himself.

What if it were true. It could not be: but what if it were. Strange but true. A sudden partisanship arose within Pierce's heart, a longing so deep and simple that he could not even be puzzled by it: a longing indistinguishable from grief, that the story ought to be true, and could not be.

I used to think, in Belaire, that maybe you had gone to live with the List, and it hadn't suited you, and that one spring they'd bring you home dead. From homesickness. I saw how you would look, pale and sad." "I did die," she said. "It was easy.

so many things I long for have so often been denied

So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss,Which sucks two souls, and vapors both away.

When I died last, and dear, I dieAs often as from thee I go.

Go, and catch a falling star,Get with child a mandrake root,Tell me, where all past years are,Or who cleft the Devil's foot.Teach me to hear mermaids singing.

Send home my long strayed eyes to me,Which (Oh) too long have dwelt on thee.

I wonder by my troth, what thou, and IDid, till we lov'd? were we not wean'd till thenBut suck'd on country pleasures, childishly?Or snorted we in the seven sleepers' den?

Oh do not die, for I shall hateAll women so, when thou art gone.

Twice or thrice had I loved thee, Before I knew thy face or name.

The day breaks not: it is my heart.

If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.

I long to talk with some old lover's ghost Who died before the god of Love was born.

Stay, O sweet, and do not rise; The light that shines comes from thine eyes; The day breaks not, it is my heart, Because that you and I must part.

But, O alas! so long, so far, Our bodies why do we forbear?

Twice or thrice had I lov'd thee, Before I knew thy face or name

For the first twenty years, since yesterday, I scarce believed thou could'st be gone away; For forty more, I fed on favors past, And forty' on hopes, that thou would'st they might last. Tears drowned one hundred, and sighs blew out two; A thousand, I did neither think, nor do, Or not divide, all being one thought of you; Or, in a thousand more, forget that too. Yet call not this, long life, but think that I Am, by being dead, immortal; can ghosts die?