Quotes About Longing

But just as nature abhors a vacuum -- so does the human heart.

I remembered Agnes's words: that we who traveled far from home would always have our hearts in two places. I placed my hand on the candlewick bedspread. And, finally, I wept.

The morning dragged and lasted two years.

You and I both know I can do just fine without you. But here's the thing: I don't want to.

That Mack McGuire, he makes my heart flutter like a clean sheet on a long line.

Can't you feel this ? Don't walk away...", she wills him silently. "Please don't walk away from me...

Will stared out the windows like a dog denied a walk.

He will be out there, living his life to the full, when she seems to have put hers perennially on hold.

He kissed her, and knew he was trying to tell her the depth of how he felt. Even as he lost himself in her, felt her hair sweep across his face, his chest, her lips meet his skin, her fingers, he understood that there were people for whom one other was their missing part.

How could I explain to this man how much I wanted to work? Did he have the slightest idea how much I missed my old job? ... I had never considered that you might miss a job like you missed a limb--a constant, reflexive thing.

You should have been here, Will, I told him silently. It was you she really needed.

Sometimes she woke up speaking his name. Sometimes she wondered how it were possible to be so far from the sea and still feel as if she were drowning.

Just a little homesick, Alice answered. It was the truth, she thought. She just wasn't sure she had yet been to the place she was homesick for.

I tried to show him that he was the answer to a question I hadn't even known I had been asking.

How was she supposed to bear the prospect of never seeing him again? Never seeing his face light up simply because she had walked into the room? Never catching his eye in a crowd, feeling the subtle heat that came with standing alongside a man she knew wanted her more than any other?

Please. Come on. Right here, on the bed. Right next to me.

I only know that when I'm not with you I'm mean and mad at everything.

I wi-li-lished I li-li-lived in Molahonkey la-la-land The la-la-land where I-li-li was bo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lorn So I-li-li could play-la-lay my o-lo-lold banjo-lo-lo My o-lo-lold ban-jo-lo-lo won't go-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo.

Had a million things to say and none I knew how. I stepped forward and kissed him, like people kiss at airports, full of love and desperate longing, kisses that must imprint themselves on their recipient for the journey, for the weeks, the months ahead.

I just…want to be a man who has been to a concert with a girl in a red dress. Just for a few minutes more." I

I told myself that, somewhere, tiny particles of him would become tiny particles of me, ingested, swallowed, alive, perpetual. I wanted to press every bit of me against him. I wanted to will something into him. I wanted to give him every bit of life I felt and force him to live. I realized I was afraid of living without him.

I ache, I rattle with supplements, and my grandchildren cannot believe I have ever been anything but prehistoric.

But when the lift doors closed behind us, he pulled me toward him, took my face in his hands and kissed me again. "Was that to stop me talking?" I said when he released me. "No. That was because I've wanted to do that for four long weeks and I plan to do it as many times as I can until I go home again." "That's a good line." "Took me most of the flight.

The morning sagged and decided to last for several years.