Quotes About Longing

I loved you passionately. I always dreamed of your loving me, far back where dreams are kept.

She would not live with him day by day, aching for every kind word or chance touch.

And all the time he stood there . . . he was aware of Christina beside him, beautiful, elegant, gracious, smelling of lavender—and for this evening and a few more days his to look at, to admire, to yearn for.

He would see her for perhaps five minutes the next morning, when he would be tongue-tied with all there was to say. And then the journey back to London. And Cassandra. And his wedding. And the rest of his life. And never Allie again. Never again.

He could not do it. It was as simple as that. He had known it there at the castle as he held her in his arms, his head bent back against the stone pillar, his body aching and aching for her. He could not do it. She had done nothing to deserve him and the kind of destruction he could bring into her life.

She wondered how long it would be before she could no longer remember clearly what he looked like. She turned her head to look at him now as if it were somehow important to remember, to memorize

One day I am going to share the sort of love with a man that poets write of.

The next few days were all she could ever have of him.

And there was that other thing too—that thing that dominated his every waking moment and kept him from sleep at night and haunted his dreams when he did nod off. There was Allie.

She had always known deep down that she had never recovered fully from his defection. She had loved him for so long that he had become part of her very being.

He knew that after tomorrow he would try to remember what she looked like and not always succeed.

She had loved him mindlessly, passionately, for the following five years, until he had told her that he was going away and never coming back. And even beyond that she had loved him, painfully and against her will, until she had finally forced herself to forget. Or to tell herself that she had forgotten.

She had not got over him at all, in fact, and she was disgusted with herself when forced to admit the truth.

And you, Elizabeth? he had asked. Do you love me? Will you wait for me? Yes, she had answered with all the ardor of extreme youth. I love you, Robert, and I shall wait forever if I must.

I have gone and done something very silly, Becky, he said, flashing her a grin. I have fallen in love with you. You will think me very foolish, will you not, old friend? I have been fighting it all summer. I don't think you are foolish, Christopher, she said, gazing earnestly back at him. I have loved you for a long time.

Oh, God, Becky, I want you, he said shakily. I must get you back home quickly, love. It is dangerous to be alone like this.

And in the very center of her vision—and of her heart and her life—Gerard, the man she had always loved and always would.

Of course she wished to go. How dreadful it would be not to be there but to be wondering every moment what was happening, imagining with whom he was walking and talking.

Please believe me, darling, it will break my heart in two to leave you here. But I cannot take you. I must go quickly. Please understand.

He had taken Elizabeth into his arms and held her very close to him. I love you, he had said against her hair, and I shall come for you just as soon as I may.

He had vaulted into the saddle and ridden down the driveway away from the sea and the cliffs, and away from her, without a backward glance. She had watched him, an ache in her heart, until a line of trees finally hid him from view.

Tomorrow she would have been free of him. She would have been on her way back to the life she had chosen for herself. And he had been unable to let her go.

And he had kissed her with as much hunger as she had felt. For the minute or two that they were in each other's arms, she was sure, the years had been swept back for both of them.

And I wanted so much to be able to set the world at your feet. I never wanted anything but you, she almost whispered.