Quotes About Longing

Sardis often turning her thoughts here ] you like a goddess and in your song most of all she rejoiced. But now she is conspicuous among Lydian women as sometimes at sunset the rosyfingered moon surpasses all the stars. And her light stretches over salt sea equally and flowerdeep fields. And the beautiful dew is poured out and roses bloom and frail chervil and flowering sweetclover. But she goes back and forth remembering gentle Atthis and in longing she bites her tender mind

Come to me once more, and abate my torment; Take the bitter care from my mind, and give me All I long for; Lady, in all my battles Fight as my comrade.

No holy place existed without us then, no woodland, no dance, no sound. Beyond all hope, I prayed those timeless days we spent might be made twice as long. I prayed one word: I want. Someone, I tell you, will remember us, even in another time.

and on a soft bed delicate you would let loose your longing

Because I prayed this word: I want

I was dreaming of you but] just then Dawn, in her golden sandals [woke me]

for when i look at you, even a moment, no speaking is left in me no: tongue breaks and thin fire is racing under skin

I simply want to be dead. Weeping she left me with many tears and said this: Oh how badly things have turned out for us. Sappho, I swear, against my will I leave you. And I answered her: Rejoice, go and remember me. For you know how we cherished you.

Eros the melter of limbs (now again) stirs me - sweetbitter unmanageable creature who steals in

For me, neither the honey nor the bee.

neither for me honey nor the honey bee

Once again Love, that loosener of limbs, bittersweet and inescapable, crawling thing, seizes me.

And Her soul! Her soul is consumed by this longing.

but me you have forgotten or you love some man more than me

I desire And I crave.

Nightingale, All you sing Is desire; You are the crier Of coming spring

Some say thronging cavalry, some say foot soldiers, others call a fleet the most beautiful of sights the dark earth offers, but I say it's what- ever you love best. . . . . But that reminds me: now my Anactória is gone, and I'd rather see her lovely step, her sparkling glance and her face than gaze on all the troops in Lydia in their chariots and glittering armor.

LXVII INDOORS the fire is kindled; Beechwood is piled on the hearthstone; Cold are the chattering oak-leaves; And the ponds frost-bitten. Softer than rainfall at twilight, Bringing the fields benediction And the hills quiet and greyness, Are my long thoughts of thee. How should thy friend fear the seasons? They only perish of winter Whom Love, audacious and tender, Never hath visited.

Reminded me of Anaktoria, who is gone. I would rather see her lovely step and the motion of light on her face than chariots of Lydians or ranks of footsoldiers in arms.

Love-bittersweet, irrepressible-loosens my limbs and i tremble.

My heart flutters in my breast whenever I quickly glance at you- I can say nothing, my tongue is broken. A delicate fire runs under my skin, my eyes see nothing, my ears roar, cold sweat rushes down me, trembling seizes me, I am greener than grass. To myself I seem needing but little to die

I have flown to you like a child to her mother.

To me he seems equal to gods, the man who sits facing you and hears you near as you speak softly and laugh in a sweet echo that jolts the heart in my ribs. Now when I look at you a moment my voice is empty and can say nothing as my tongue cracks and slender fire races under my skin. My eyes are dead to light, my ears pound, and sweat pours over me. I convulse, greener than grass and feel my mind slip as I go close to death Yet I must suffer, even poor

Sweet mother, now I cannot work the loom. Sleek Afroditi broke me with longing for a boy.