Quotes About Longing

But maybe, someday, I will know you again.

She put her hand in his, and he clasped it firmly, knowing he had been waiting for her all his life.

The desire to love is the impulsion of the soul towards the Ideal, it is the sense of the indefinite, the perfect. It is also insatiable, for the perfect is always on the horizon, never attainable.

Give me to drink the poison of thy breast-- Dark cruel wine from grapes of passion pressed-- Till I am drunk beyond delirium's dream In that dim utter deep where men may rest.

Oh, kill me with thy kisses! Drain me dry Of pain and life, nor leave me breath to sigh; Yea, feed my spirit, starving at thy lips, Thy sweet perfidious poison ere I die!

We're all holding onto something," Waits said. "None of us wants to come out of the ground." For Waits, "Hold On" was "two people who are in love, writing a song... about being in love".

I looked out at the street beyond the overhang. The rain was coming in at gray angled streaks. One of my hands moved to her cheek. I closed my eyes. Her skin was wet from the rain and I thought of tears.

She screamed. Her screaming was beautiful. But, truth be told he missed the crying.

him jump a little inside whenever they roamed his way. Her hair—off-limits to touch, but not to his other senses—entranced him, jet black, shoulder-length, tightly coiled like powerful springs, smelling slightly of chemicals and cinnamon, the beads at the end of each braid clicking together as she walked.

Stop what?" Howie demanded. "Stop loving you, Jazz? I wish I could quit you, but I can't. Someday, we'll run off to New York and get married, the way God intended it." Despite himself, Jasper cracked a grin. "Sorry, man my nips only go out about this far." He mimed a quarter inch. "Oh, well, in that case, nice to know ya…

I don't know how to quantify the way I am around her, the person I am. When I'm with her, I feel hope. Possibility. It clings to me like a scent. Is this what love feels like? I've never felt it before, and I've never felt this before, so maybe they're the same. I could stay, maybe. For her, yes. I could stay. [...] But it was fun to think about it. Fun to pretend. Fun to have someone who—for a little while—cared as much as I do.

After a little while, she takes my hand. Less than I want. More than I deserve. [...] Why didn't I kiss her? Because I'm going away. Am I? Am I still? I think. I think I need to. I think.

I'm no good at the new games because I rarely play them. I like old things. Old books. Old movies. Old TV shows. [...] Life was more complicated, but it was quieter, I bet. Slower. [...] The distractions then were card catalogs and dust and the smell of old paper and ink. The distractions were deep. I wonder what it would be like to go back in time, to live as long ago as the 1980s, or even further back. To know what was to come.

The truth is that today I had no destination. For some reason, I just had to ride past her house and see her. But that isn't the sort of thing you can confess to a girl while she is cleaning up from nursing you back to health. Or ever.

I jam my hands into my pockets because otherwise I'm afraid I'll try to hold hers. That's the sort of stupid thing I would do.

Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars;Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars.In other words, hold my hand!In other words, darling, kiss me!

Want to know the biggest lie ever written? 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

Very often one "pushes away" the very thing that one most wants to grab, like a lover. This is a common, although distressing, psychological mechanism, having to do (in my opinion) with the fact that what is presented is not presented "purely", that there is a little canker or grim place in it somewhere.

Whether this desire for sex is moderate or not, it is usually called lust.

How much I desire! Inside my little satchel, the moon, and flowers

Entirety exists within me as exuberance. Only in empty longing, only in an unlucky desire to be consumed simply be the desire to burn with desire, is entirety wholly what it is.

And yet to wine, to opium even, I prefer the elixir of your lips on which love flaunts itself.

Come back, I beg you, and I shall be gentle and modest in my desires.... I won't say you'll find me no longer in love, but you cannot prevent my mind wandering around your arms, those beautiful hands of yours, your eyes which are the mainspring of life, and all your adorable earthly being. No, I know you cannot prevent it: but fear not, you are for me an object of worship, and I am incapable of defiling you.

We long for what we cannot have, yet desire it not so much because it would benefit us, as because it is beyond our reach.