Quotes About Longing

La felicità assomiglia a delle vacanze in riva al mare in un'estate piovosa, dove solo l'ultima giornata è stata bella, e questo è sufficiente per rimpiangerle.

Ci resta sempre in fondo al cuore il rimpianto di un'ora, di un'estate, di un fuggevole istante in cui la giovinezza si schiude come una gemma.

The egocentricity which motivated it was not that of the spoiled, but of the too little spoiled; the lonely. Had she been an artist she would have painted a self-portrait; instead she decorated two rooms, charging them with objects which some visitor, some day, would recognize and understand. And through that understanding he would divine all the capacities and longings she had found in herself and was unable to communicate.

Nostalgic longing is always for an elsewhere. Remembrance is the affirmation of what brought us here.

What a test that is: more than devotion, admiration, passion. If you long and long for someone's company you love them.

How huge it is, how empty, this great space for which I have been longing all my life. Still no letters.

She felt intense disappointment, even a kind of guilt, as if she had missed something, perhaps forever. He had been there, she could have spoken to him. Could she call out now, cry his name? It was impossible.

I am beginning to ramble. It is evening. The sea is golden, speckled with white points of light, lapping with a sort of mechanical self-satisfaction under a pale green sky. How huge it is, how empty, this great space for which I have been longing all my life. Still no letters.

He felt misery, loneliness, a terrible need for love.

Somehow I've always wanted the ones that didn't want me. I'm the absolute queen bee of unrequited love.

His heart ached in such a familiar way, and the very familiarity of it pained him.

I've thought about nothing else but you.

I need love, I've never felt more in need of it than now. I feel so terribly terribly unhappy.

You've obviously never been in love. I have actually. And awfully . And—always—without hope—I've never had my love reciprocated ever.

I'm the absolute queen bee of unrequited love.

I must admit that I am in a state of utter wretchedness and have been for a long time. I didn't know that such extreme unhappiness could continue for so long.

I crave for love, everybody does . . . and I've never had a bloody crumb of it—and I've given so much love to people—I can really love people, I can, I let them walk over me—but nobody's ever loved me.

Sometimes I just feel so shut in, with all those people and they've all got something while I've got nothing.

And I thought, rolling my head to and fro between my hands in anguish, oh if only it could have worked somehow for us two.

Sentimentally and in the soul it went on for ages, it still goes on, it goes on and on.

I know girls aren't supposed to tell, but I've got to tell—just in case you should fail to love me because you never knew how much I loved you. I want not to have to say later—I wish I'd told him.

He could go back and take her in his arms. If only he knew how to do this. But they had lost the language of their affections, they had lost the style.

I wanted consolation, I wanted love, I wanted, to save me, some colossal and powerful love such as I had never known before.

I touched the Waterford glass with my finger: and in its ring I heard the echo of a voice saying You do not really want your wife back after all . I answered the voice in my heart: a bond of this kind is deeper and stronger than wanting or not wanting. Wherever I am in the world and whenever I am I shall always be Antonia.