Quotes About Longing

Food used to be so good. I used to love food. I haven't eaten food since I was thirteen years old...I haven't had a real piece of bread in thirty years. If I knew what was going to happen, I would have saved some rolls when I was a kid.

in the process, I was creating a hunger that could never be satiated.

It is always a painful process and often a most discouraging one. The process continues until all that can be shaken is removed and only those things which cannot be shaken remain. Through this shaking the deliverance for which we prayed is accomplished. Through it all, we will be brought into the secure place for which we long."3

The far-off interest of tears.

Helga Crane was silent, feeling a mystifying yearning which sang and throbbed in her.

You can't know how in this pale life of mine I am all the time seeing the bright pictures of that other that I once thought I was glad to be free of … It's like an ache, a pain that never ceases…

Chorus of Clouds We are full of sighs, full of glances, We are full of laughter And sometimes we wear your faces. We are not far from you. Who knows how much of your blood rose And stained us? Who knows how many tears you have shed Because of our weeping? How much longing formed us? We play at dying, Accustom you gently to death. You, the inexperienced, who learn nothing in the nights. Many angels are given you But you do not see them.

Actually, they fought to fill the emptiness of their lives as they filled their empty glasses. They fought—not because the liquor was in them, but because it did not fill them enough.

Meanwhile, I haven't had sex in so long I can't remember who brings the handcuffs.

Sem alma não se chupa nem um chicabon.

Over your breasts of motionless current, over your legs of firmness and water, over the permanence and the pride of your naked hair I want to be, my love, now that the tears are thrown into the raucous baskets where they accumulate, I want to be, my love, alone with a syllable of mangled silver, alone with a tip of your breast of snow.

She said, "Aye, they're getting for him everything the heart of man could desire, saving the one thing." I asked, "What's that?" She said, "A wife." She's very shrewd.

If the fire of the love to you wouldn't dry them the floods of tears for you would sweep me away And if the water from my two eyes wouldn't come to my aid the fire of the grief over you would burn my heart wailing

Unshed tears of an unrequited desire for vengeance are exhausting and require privacy.

Passant par la maison, la maison de Laylâ, Je baise ce mur-ci, cet autre, et celui-là. Est-ce d'aimer les murs que tu perds la raison? Non pas les murs, mon coeur : les gens de la maison.

you just wanted her to say, "I know what that's like." But of course, she can't say that, will never say that. And if she ever could then you could no longer be with her. Then you would both be tired. Then she would be a better friend, but a worse lover.

That undamaged part of her was so small, it was only good for one night.

The saddest people I've ever met in life are the ones who don't care deeply about anything at all. Passion and satisfaction go hand in hand, and without them, any happiness is only temporary, because there's nothing to make it last.

I fell in love with her when we were together, then fell deeper in love with her in the years we were apart.

I love you, not just for now, but for always, and I dream of the day that you'll take me in your arms again.

Without you in my arms, I feel an emptiness in my soul. I find myself searching the crowds for your face - I know it's an impossibility, but I cannot help myself.

While I sleep, I dream of you, and when I wake, I long to hold you in my arms. If anything, our time apart has only made me more certain that I want to spend my nights by your side, and my days with your heart.

She was my dream. She made me who I am, and holding her in my arms was more natural to me than my own heartbeat. I think about her all the time. Even now, when I'm sitting here, I think about her. There could never have been another.

She wanted something else, something different, something more. Passion and romance, perhaps, or maybe quiet conversations in candlelit rooms, or perhaps something as simple as not being second.