Quotes About Longing

Aveva provato la gioia dell'amore per quell'uomo così lontano dalla media – un controllore sui treni ma anche un poeta, un giornalista – e la sua mente fragile non era riuscita a riadattarsi alla normalità grezza della vita senza di lui.

She deserved him because she thought that to love him meant to try to have him, not to hope that he would want her.

amarlo suponía tratar de conseguirlo, no esperar a que él la quisiera.

Esigeva che svilissi gli amanti recenti dimostrandogli che il mio unico desiderio era tornare a essere penetrata da lui. Voleva insomma riaffermare il suo primato, poi di sicuro sarebbe di nuovo sparito.

But in a confused way I felt that if I ran away with the others I would leave with her something of mine that she would never give back.

y a veces, al notarla tan feliz, me asaltó una nostalgia genuina por un tiempo que, no obstante, consideraba pasado para siempre y mal desenterrado por su fantasía en exceso afectuosa.

É tão fácil — pensei — morrer precisamente na vida das pessoas sem as quais não podemos viver?

Porque já estou farta, é sempre a mesma história: dentro daquilo que é pequeno existe algo ainda mais pequeno que quer saltar para fora, e fora daquilo que é grande existe algo ainda maor que o quer manter prisioneiro. Vou cozinhar.

El pasado ofrecía el encanto de lo irrecuperable. Lo perdido se convierte en algo precioso, en algo apenas entrevisto, evocado casi a voluntad, en la esencia más pura del presente.

Hacer falta es la primera ley del amor.

De pronto la miro y ya no está. Vuelvo a mirarla, la define su ausencia. Ha ido a unirse a lago que le da fuerza y no sé lo que es. No puedo seguirla, no entiendo hacia qué espacio invisible se ha dirigido, qué aire inefable la resguarda y la aísla; desde luego ya no está en el mundo y por más que manoteo no me ve, permanece siempre fuera de mi alcance. Sé que mi amor la sustenta, claro, pero su ausencia es sólo suya y en ella no tengo cabida.

Reviento lenta y penosamente por el deseo de verte, regresa pronto (…) Me da miedo caer en medio del abismo. Te amo atrozmente, que horroroso aquí sin ti, a pesar de que me dejas sola todo el día...

how could I, fool that I am, go on sitting in my office, or here at home, instead of leaping onto a train with my eyes shut and opening them only when I am with you?

I have no sounds that could serve to soothe me, no violoncello like him, no lament that anyone would recognize as a lament because it sounds subdued, in an inexpressibly tender language. I have only these lines on the yellowish paper and words that are never new, for they keep saying the same thing through an entire life.

Quando l'amore si trasforma in attesa dell'amore non siamo più in grado di capire cosa sentiamo veramente

Love has a thousand doors. But one-sided love isn't a door, it's a delusion.

Everything you want right now, everything you want so passionately and think you'll never get—you will get it someday." I accidentally met her eyes, and it felt like she was talking to me. "Yes, you will get it," she said, looking right at me, "but by that time, you won't want it anymore. That's how it happens.

I kept looking around the bleachers at the audience, middle-aged people in practical clothes. Every single one of them cared about love, but how much? A lot, or only a little bit? The opera went on for a long time. Eventually the two youngest people onstage got married, so we could all go home.

Everything you want right now, everything you want so passionately and think you'll never get--you will get it someday." I accidentally met her eyes, and it felt like she was talking to me. "Yes, you will get get it," she said, looking right at me, "but by that time, you won't want it anymore. That's how it happens.

like his whole organic being aspired to be a French cruller.

You're always sad when you leave Rome," he said at some point. "You're always depressed until you go back.

I was overcome by a sense of how much more there was in his life than in mine, by the things to do and distances to travel, while I never had done anything or gone anywhere, and never would.

It was terrible to think that he was in this city, possibly very nearby, but I couldn't see him or talk to him because he didn't love me. I couldn't be with him for one minute, not even for the weird leftover hours that nobody else wanted, like from one to three a.m. on a Wednesday.

I thought about how wonderful it would be to walk around with him until the following morning. I really felt that way, even though he stressed me out so much, and all we ever did was mishear each other and say "What?" all the time.