Quotes About Longing

I'd like to see much more understanding of emotional issues around hurt, abandonment, disappointment, longing, failure and shame, where they stem from and how they drive people and policies brought into public discourse.

So where's my hug.

I love her." Bobby said it aloud, to the door, knowing Wes couldn't hear him over the sound of his own knocking. "I'm in love with Colleen.

I only have to worry about spending the rest of my life wanting someone I can't have.

God, I want her in my life," he said aloud. "What am I going to do, Wes?" No one answered.

I missed you, Wesley." "Yeah," Wes said, heading toward the front of the bus. "I'm going to miss you, too.

And then he stood there, outside her apartment building, watching the lights go on in her apartment, angry and frustrated and dying to be up there with her, and wondering what on earth he was going to do now.

What she wanted was right there, between them, pressed against her stomach—so big and accessible and user-friendly—neatly covered and ready to go.

He was keeping his pants zipped, which actually wasn't as hard as it seemed, even after he'd gone for well over nine months without getting laid.

And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don't want him to die. And it's not about the sponsors. And it's not about what will happen when we get home. And it's not just that I don't want to be alone. It's him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.

I just...I just miss him. And I hate being so alone.

I'll never know what it was he wanted me to remember.

Trapped for days, years, centuries maybe. Dead, but not allowed to die. Alive, but as good as dead. So alone that anyone, anything no matter how loathsome would be welcome.

You'll never be able to let him go. You'll always feel wrong about being with me.

Star-crossed lovers desperate to get home together. Two hearts beating as one. Romance.

Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of make my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.

Maybe I'll be like the man in the Hanging Tree still waiting for an answer.' Gale who I have never seen cry has tears in his eyes. To keep them from spilling over. I reach forward and press my lips against his. We taste of heat, ashes and misery.

I just... I just miss him. And hate being so alone. Does he miss me? He must

I also want to tell him how much I already miss him. But that wouldn't be fair on my part.

They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs. It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so badly. When I first felt her stirring inside of me, I was consumed with a terror that felt as old as life itself. Only the joy of holding her in my arms could tame it.

Never having been in love, this is going to be a real trick. I think of my parents. The way my father never failed to bring her gifts from the woods. The way my mother's face would light up at the sound of his boots at the door. The way she almost stopped living when he died.

The numbness of his loss had passed, and the pain would hit me out of nowhere, doubling me over, racking my body with sobs. Where are you? I would cry out in my mind. Where have you gone? Of course, there was never any answer.

They don't know that I'm already asking for the moon.

I miss home badly sometimes. But then I remember there's nothing left to miss anymore. I feel safer here.