Quotes About Longing

You said, 'I love you.' Why is it that the most unoriginal thing we can say to one another is still the thing we long to hear?

Love is needing to be loved.

If I don't love you, baby, grits ain't groceries.

I look at her wish we could go inside and make love on the couch. Dive inside each other. Take each other. Make each other. Nothing happens, though.

King Kong, Count Dracula, and the Phantom of the Opera are just looking for love, like the rest of us.

Love wishes to perpetuate itself. Love wishes for immortality.

I wish I had the gift of making rhymes, for methinks there is poetry in my head and heart since I have been in love with you.

Love- what is love? A great and aching heart; Wrung hands; and silence; and a long despair

I love you with the passion of a drowning man for breathing air. I can't just have enough of you and having you a little would be disastrous.

Next to love is the desire for love.

I'm going to wait til the midnight hour, that's when my love begins to shine.

Being hungry is like being in love: if you don't know, you're probably not.

I love Miami; I miss it so much. I miss the beach, the peace it brings you. I love the sound and smell of the sea.

Your skin starts itching once you buy that gimmick about something called love.

Love at a distance may be poignant; it is also idealized. Contact, more than separation, is the test of attachment.

What did I hope for, what did I expect, what rich future did I foresee, when the phantom of my first love, rising up for an instant, barely called forth one sigh, one mournful sentiment?

In love longing I listen to the monk's bell. I will never forget you even for an interval short as those between the bell notes.

We like, we cherish, we are very, very fond of—but we never love again.

I have so much in me, and the feeling for her absorbs it all; I have so much, and without her it all comes to nothing.

I have always been the lover - never the beloved - and I have spent much of my life waiting for trains, planes, boats, footsteps, doorbells, letters, telephones, snow, rain, thunder.

Love! Beyond measure — beyond death — it nearly kills. But one wouldn't have been without it.

Touch has a memory. O say, love say, What can I do to kill it and be free In my old liberty?

This is love, she thought, isn't it? When you notice someone's absence and hate that absence more than anything? More, even, than you love his presence?

The world no longer lets me love, My hope and treasure are above.