Quotes About Longing

a drunk did not expect the bottle to love him back,and she only wished to drink him in whenever she could.

For the thousandth time he wished he'd just met her. That they were but two strangers traveling together, that such lovely, filthy thoughts did not break him in two, but were only a pleasant pastime as he slowly fell under the spell of her aloof beauty and her hidden intensity. … But no, they'd met long ago, in the furthest years of his childhood. Their chances had come and gone. All they had ahead of them were a tedious road and a final good-bye.

For the next three seconds, he still dared to let himself hope. Perhaps she was making a grand entrance. Perhaps she would be carried in like Cleopatra, hidden in a roll of fine carpet. Perhaps— Three porters, grunting, pulled in a handcart. A crevasse opened before him and in fell his heart. No need to remove the tarpaulin wrapping. He recognized the stone slab by its size and weight. She had returned his present. She would have nothing more to do with him.

So far I have restrained myself. For how much longer, I do not know. I have never known such happiness, shot through with such misery. Only four days have passed, they tell me. But that is not true. It has been decades since I saw you last. You will find me a stooped old man when we meet again. Perhaps I might even need a pair of spectacles to recognize your veil. But I remain always, Your servant, C. One of Christian's onesided letters to the Baroness

Are elderly women easier to fool than seven-year-olds? Which one wants more desperately to believe that a loved one will return against all odds?

Such a lonely feeling, being hopelessly in love.

You know what I think about when I'm alone and you are far away?" he murmured. "I think about you, naked, under the sun." He licked her nipple. She whimpered. "Not the English sun, mind you, because it is never adequate. But the sun over the Arabian sea. Or the sun of the south of France. Light brilliant enough to shatter mirrors. And you, naked, in that light, your thighs open this wide—

Alas, would that it were as easy to appease the heart as it is to satisfy the stomach.

He imagined Holmes in her comfortable, four-poster bed at Hôtel Papillon in Paris. He imagined climbing into that bed, holding her tight, herwarmth spreading along his skin and into his sinews. The vision kept him going, dragging Mr. Marbleton along.

I miss hot cocoa with a burning passion," Charlotte sighed. "Every time I approach Maximum Tolerable Chins, I make solemn resolutions to be more moderate in my cake intake. And then a year passes and I'm at Maximum Tolerable Chins again.

The rediscovery of taste was as perilous as he'd feared it would be, rousing other dormant, dangerous longings for everything he did not have, everything he'd hoped to hold dear and could not. Her, of course; her always.

This time he forgot everything. He only stood and stared. That smile. Christ, that smile. He recognized it by the wave of ecstatic joy that all but knocked him flat on his back. Had he though himself incapable of happiness in a sustained basis? He was wrong — and how. He could never have enough of this sweet elation. He wanted to splash in it, swim in it, drink it by the gallons, until nothing but bliss pulsed in his veins. The girl of his dreams. He had met her at last.

He looked at her as if he hadn't seen her in a very long time. Or perhaps, as if he might never see her again, and must memorize her features one by one.

Lexington, met the man who would inspire four long years of unrequited love on her part, she was thinking about fossils. She didn't have any

I miss those days even though I wasn't alive.

If he only knew how much, she thought as she moved on. As

I wanted to run away from everything but I wanted to run towards something too.

Sometimes I think we Americans are the loneliest people in the world. To be sure, we hunger for the power of affection, the self-acceptance that gives life. It is the oldest and strongest hunger in the world. But hungering is not enough.

It has long been my desire to be a little worm in the fair apple of Progress.

The eighteen years he has lived seem but a moment, a breathing space in the long march of humanity. Already he hears death calling. With all his heart he wants to come close to some other human, touch someone with his hands, be touched by the hand of another. If he prefers that the other be a woman, that is because he believes that a woman will be gentle, that she will understand. He wants, most of all, understanding.

The young man's mind was carried away by his growing passion for dreams. One looking at him would not have thought him particularly sharp. With the recollection of little things occupying his mind he closed his eyes and leaned back in the car seat. He stayed that way for a long time and when he aroused himself and again looked out of the car window the town of Winesburg had disappeared and his life there had become but a background on which to paint the dreams of his manhood.

I am a lover and have not found my thing to love.

I am a lover and have not found my thing to love. That is a big point if you know enough to realize what I mean. It makes my destruction inevitable, you see. There are few who understand that.

I wanted to run away from everything but I wanted to run towards something too. Don't you see, dear, how it was?