Quotes About Longing

If he held her, he couldn't kiss her. If he kissed her, he couldn't see her. If he saw her, he couldn't feel her. (205)

Sitting next to Tilo, breathing next to her, he felt like an empty house whose locked windows and doors were creaking open a little, to air the ghosts trapped inside it.

For one struck down by Cupid's bow Life becomes burdensome, isn't that so?

Nas Grandes Histórias você sabem quem vive, quem morre, quem encontra o amor, quem não encontra. E, mesmo assim, você quer ouvir de novo.

Addiction has its own mnemonics- skin, smell, the length of the loved one's fingers. In Tilo's case it was the slant of her eyes, the shape of her mouth, the almost invisible scar that slightly altered the symmetry of her lips and made her look defiant even when she did not mean to, the way her nostrils flared, announcing the displeasure even before her eyes did.

The God of Goosebumps and Sudden Smiles. He could do only one thing at a time. If he touched her, he couldn't talk to her, if he loved her he couldn't leave, if he spoke he couldn't listen, if he fought he couldn't win. Ammu longed for him. Ached for him with the whole of her biology. She returned to the dinner table.

Rahel drogs in i äktenskapet som en resenär dras till en ledig stol i vänthallen på en flygplats. Med en Slå sig ner-känsla.

He longed for the river. Because water always helps.

Addiction has its own mnemonics – skin, smell, the length of the loved one's fingers.

Naga married Tilo because he was never really able to reach her. And because he couldn't reach her he couldn't let her go.

Si, comme il arrivait quelquefois, elle avait les traits d'une femme que j'avais connue dans la vie, j'allais me donner tout entier à ce but : la retrouver, comme ceux qui partent en voyage pour voir de leurs yeux une cité désirée et s'imaginent qu'on peut goûter dans une réalité le charme du songe. Peu à peu son souvenir s'évanouissait, j'avais oublié la fille de mon rêve.

But the man I met--he is the love I had wanted to reach long before I knew that he existed, and I think he will remain beyond my reach, but that I love him will be enough to keep me living.

Three Plagues of nursing home existence: boredom, loneliness, and helplessness.

Asl?nda insanlar?n baÄŸl?l??a ihtiyac? olduÄŸunu savundu. BaÄŸl?l?k ille de mutluluk getirmez ve hatta ac? verici olabilir ancak hepimiz hayatlar?m?z? tahammül edilebilir k?lmak için kendimizin d???nda bir ÅŸeye adanm??l??a ihtiyaç duyar?z. Bu olmadan bize yaln?zca arzular?m?z rehberlik eder ki onlar da geçici, kaprisli ve doyumsuzdur.

No one pitied him as he wished to be pitied," writes Tolstoy. "At certain moments after prolonged suffering he wished most of all (though he would have been ashamed to confess it) for someone to pity him as a sick child is pitied. He longed to be petted and comforted. He knew he was an important functionary, that he had a beard turning grey, and that therefore what he longed for was impossible, but still he longed for it.

Each one of us had been starved for love for so long that we wanted to believe that love, once found, was all-powerful. We wanted to believe that it could give word to my inchoate pain and rages; that it could enable Muriel to face the world and get a job; that it could free our writings, cure racism, end homophobia and adolescent acne.

But this delectable creature in front of me was most certanly a girl, and I wanted her for my very own - my very own what, I did not know - but for my very own self.

I don't know how long I looked for Toni every day at noontime, sitting on the stoop. Eventually, her image receded into that place from which all my dreams are made.

If a flower you covet, straightway you are told it is another's.

she seeks me like roses in my mouth.

You should have held me tight. You should have grabbed me and held on.

I missed him so much that I had physical sensations of loss, all over my body. Like one minute I was missing an arm, the next my spleen. It was making me feel sick, like throwing up.

What I really want is to sit next to someone on an L.L. bean blanket on the beach in the fall and drink coffee from the same mug. I don't want some rusty '73 Ford Pinto with a factory-defective gas tank that causes it to explode when its rear-ended in the parking lot of the supermarket. So why do I keep looking for Pintos?

There just didn't seem to be anything to hold on to. We weren't going anywhere, and we weren't pulling away. We were just floating, suspended in liquid. And I guess I want more. And I don't know what he wants.