Quotes About Longing

Write, he said. I'll write to you as soon as I get there, answered Julian. No. Not to me. Write books. Not letters. Write them for me, for Penelope.

I carried the trace of her lips, of her breath on my skin through streets full of faceless people escaping from offices and shops.

Don't you remember? Life is waiting for us...' ' I'm waiting for you... Memories are all I have waiting for me.

Now he understood. He had dreamed about her countless times, on that same staircase, with that same blue dress and that same movement of her ash-grey eyes, without knowing who she was or why she smiled at him.

Those who aren't able to fall in love suffer all the more.

You don't know what thirst is until you drink for the first time.

The same thing that had happened with the flowers was happening with my longing: once I held it in my hands, I didn't know where to put it.

What's wrong with him? I could tell you it's the heart, but what is really killing him is loneliness. Memories are worse than bullets.

That afternoon of mist and drizzle, Clara Barcelo stole my heart, my breath, and my sleep. In the haunted shade of the Ateneo, her hands wrote a curse on my skin that was to hound me for years.

Write," he said. "I'll write to you as soon as I get there," answered Julián. "No. Not to me. Write books. Not letters. Write them for me, for Penélope." Julián nodded, realizing only then how much he was going to miss his friend. "And keep your dreams," said Miquel. "You never know when you might need them." "Always," murmured Julián, but the roar of the train had already stolen his words.

Desde aquella noche he sabido que algún día, no importaba cuándo, llegaría nuestro momento. Que en un lugar lejano, las luces de septiembre se encenderían para nosotros y que, esta vez, ya no habría más sombras en nuestro camino.

He believed that life gives us all a few moments of happiness. For some they last hours or days, for a few lucky ones they last for years. The memories from those moments stays with us forever and turns into a country of memory to which we try to go back for the rest of our lives without ever being able to

I know you're not a man of faith, Edmond, but faith is found when one isn't looking for it and the day will come when your heart, and not your mind, will long for the purification of the soul.

Aquella tarde de brumas y llovizna, Clara Barceló me robó el corazón, la respiración y el sueño. Al amparo de la luz embrujada del Ateneo, sus manos escribieron en mi piel una maldición que habría de perseguirme durante anhos

Mil veces he querido regresar y perderme en un recuerdo del que apenas puedo rescatar una imagen robada al calor de las llamas.

Marino, zabra?a? ze sob? wszystkie odpowiedzi.

Now I know I have already lost you. I have lost everything. Even so, I can't let you go forever and allow you to forget me without letting you know that I don't bear you any grudge, that I knew it from the start, I knew that I was going to lose you and that you would never see in me what I see in you. I want you to know that I loved you from the very first day and that I still love you, now more than ever, even if you don't want me to.

La espera es el óxido del alma.

Pense en lo poco que tenia que ofrecerle y en lo mucho que queria recibir de ella

la fe se encuentra cuando no se busca y llegará el día en que sea su corazón, no su mente, el que anhele la purificación del alma.

When I reached the street, I could still feel [her] face, her voice, and her smell, deep in my soul. I carried the trace of her lips, of her breath on my skin through streets full of faceless people escaping from offices and shops.

I was incapable of writing or feeling anything except the terror of her absence, of knowing she was lost, wrenched away.

Daniel recognized in him a pale reflection of the man he'd leaned to hate. Nothing remained of his regal face, of his arrogant demeanor and his haughty presence . Someone or something has ripped out everything that could be taken from a human being until all that remained was a longing for darkness and oblivion

Quando cheguei à rua ainda levava o seu rosto,a sua voz e o seu cheiro cravados na alma.