Quotes About Longing

Its the littlest things that make me stop and remember you. Like that old song we always used to listen to, me in the passenger seat and you at the wheel.

I see a stranger on the street and suddenly his eyes are your eyes, his smile is your smile. I'm going crazy. Hallucinating. And it's all because of you.

I am smiling in pictures without you..It might be a smile that does not reach my eyes just yet, but it's a smile and that is enough for now.

You say my name like a lover, so soft, so sweet. I want to lick the word from your lips, sip the exhaled breath from your mouth. I want to possess you utterly. Right now. Right here.

Why?" he whispered as he leaned over her, supported on one arm. "Why must ye be the one that haunts me dreams? I've seen ye weepin' night after bloody night since the day I sent ye from me palace with yer dress half undone. If I had it to do over again, I'd cut me own right hand off rather than hurt ye so. Will ye never be able to forgive me, Silence love?" "I already have," she replied, cradling his cheek in her hand. "Long, long ago.

He treasured her, treasured her tears, treasured her love for others. Her heart might even be big enough to fill that empty space in his own chest. Perhaps she could be his heart as well.

Shhh." He put a finger to her lips. "Hear me out. I cannot deny that I would've liked to have made babies with you. A little girl with your hair and eyes would've been the delight of my life. But it is you that I want primarily, not mythical children. I can survive the loss of something I've never had. I cannot survive losing you. (Winter Makepeace)

When I was small, my mother told me that moths were butterflies that had been banished to the night, where they lived tortured lives dreaming of the day. In this way she explained why they sacrificed themselves to flame; it was both an end to their suffering and a reunion with the light they longed for. The parable, of course, was meant to warn me against wanting what I should not have.

Wandering down the street in an aimless sort of way, cold too, in a dress from last night that made young men stop and stare in the street, Charity Hill found herself hating the single life for the very first time.

Nell'amore non corrisposto è come se due individui vivessero in una bolla d'aria densissima e uno dei due venisse soffocato da tanta pienezza.

Das war alles Teil ihrer Unfähigkeit, dieses 'für immer' zu begreifen. Sie konnte sich durchaus vorstellen, dass jemand fort war, das Schwierige war, zu erfassen, dass diese Person niemals wiederkehren würde.

It might be well enough to wander if you've a place and people to come back to, but I tell you now there's no desolation like wanting to go home and truly not knowing where it is.

Today I will go to wait for her again, because I cannot help it, because my whole being seems now to be bound up in the being of one so different from myself and yet so exquisitely familiar that I can scarely understand what has happened.

How can I stay awake even when it hurts? What might those secrets at dawn be? Why am I so afraid to slow down and listen? What will it take for my longing for wakefulness to become stronger than my fear of change?

What is the soul?" a man in the audience asked. "The soul," I said, "was the one who just answered the question 'Why are you really here?' It is the wise and whole and brave part of the self. The soul is the ageless longing for truth that sends scientists into the lab and seekers onto the spiritual path." And

It is hard to be warmed by starlight, when you want the sun.

Unrequited love–plain desperate aboveboard boy-chasing–turned you into a salesperson, and what you were selling was something he didn't want, couldn't use, would never miss. Unrequited love was deciding to be useless, and I could never abide uselessness.

For years I'd waited for someone to love me: that was the permission I needed to fall in love myself, as though I were a pin sunk deep in a purse, waiting for a magnet to prove me metal. When that did not happen, I'd thought of myself as unlovable . ...It was this I'd waited for all my life: a love that would make me useful, a love that would occupy all my time.

I loved him because I wanted to save him, and because I could not. I loved him because I wanted to be enough for him, and I was not. I loved him because I discovered that day, after years of practice, I had a talent for it.

It is one kind of trouble to kiss your fiancé good-bye in the morning and immediately turn your thoughts to another man. But it's another kind altogether if the other man has been dead for nine decades, or is of the genus Sciurus.

She has always wanted you as a mate, Owen.

The desire to run so far that he wouldn't be able to catch up played through me, but in my gut, I knew he would. And somehow, it filled me with an odd sense of safety, knowing that, no matter how far I ran, he would always be able to catch me, and I would always want him to.

I stumbled away. I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth and just looked at him. "What was that?" His chest rose and fell heavily. "A kiss." "Why?" "Why?" He laughed. His blue eyes suddenly looked so sad. "Because I've wanted to do that for twenty years.

I should have wanted you. I wanted so much to want you.