Quotes About Longing

Oh, yes, she said, surrendering to the longing within her, make me forget, William. Make me love you.

You are a remarkably attractive woman, Elizabeth, and six years has been a long time. I should not say no to an invitation to your bed.

But it increased the pain tenfold to wonder if he did still retain some of his love for her. It seemed so cruel that they now lived close to each other, meeting with fair frequency, and both free, yet that they could never mean anything to each other.

He wanted desperately to love her, to be able to make her happy, to be a family with her and their children. He wanted the dream—home, wife, children, love, happiness. Not fleetingly—gone almost before he could grasp it, darkness at its heart—but forever.

And so she placed her hand in his and he gripped it firmly. She was touching him again after six long years. For a moment she forgot time and occasion. It could be no one else's hand: warm, broad, capable. She had once thought she could put her whole life in it and be safe.

Damn him! Damn Robert Denning, Marquess of Hetherington. How could she be expected to sleep peacefully knowing that he was under the same roof? Was he sleeping dreamlessly? Or was he restless too, troubled perhaps by his conscience? He did not appear to have one, but perhaps it troubled him in his sleep. The thought was somehow comforting.

Do you not know me well enough, he asked, to know that I would have come to you as fast as horse could gallop at any time I had received such a letter from you in the last six years?

He should have stayed away. The memories were going to be very sweet, it was true. They were also going to be unbearable.

And she gazed upward into the face of all her dreams. Not just Piers' face, though that too. Oh, yes, that too. But the face of her dream. Piers wanting her and loving her. Focused entirely on her. Asking her the question with the one whispered word and with eyes that pleaded and were not quite sure of her answer.

And he was Robert, the man she had always loved, the only man who had ever touched her, the only man she had ever wanted. And wanted now with a searing passion.

But it was an ordeal worse than any she had yet experienced in the days since she heard he was coming home. To see him and to hear him was bad enough. To touch him was unendurable—that slim yet surprisingly strong hand that had so often held hers in the past, so often touched and caressed her.

She had to get away. She could not stay this close to him and yet this far away from him for much longer.

I cannot now believe that we allowed all those things to happen to us without blazing a trail back to each other. I cannot quite understand why I did not fight my way through hell, though God knows I believed I had done all I could. I was so damned young.

I will treat it as a fantasy. A romantic fantasy. I will make you fall in love with me all over again.

Christina. There was nothing else to say. Just her name and all the pain of its utterance.

This is the man who loves you, darling, who has loved you for six long and lonely years. Open your eyes and look at me, love.

When had he become the sun and moon to her, the very air she breathed?

hoped for and had been given as a priest for everything he yearned for and desired as a man.

Isaac didn't understand heartache. Or regret or longing or divided loyalties. Or anger or shattered trust or betrayal. Such things had no clarity. They involved expectations of another's behavior, and Isaac had no such expectations.

I want to belong with someone. I want to feel at the center of something, and not the edge. I want children and grandchildren. I don't want to grow old and die, knowing that when I die, there will be no more like me.

Dünyadaki hüznün yar?s? seni istemeyen birini istemektir

I'd been in love dozens of times, but it was always the unrequited kind.

Sometimes I don't know anymore if it really is love. I have been carrying it for so long.

Today the clerk in the fancy deli next door asked me how I was, and I said, 'I have deep longings that will never be satisfied.