Quotes About Longing

We remember the missing as much as the lost, don't we?

I kept an image of you in my mind through all of it.

In her hurt, she did what she'd always done: she disappeared. But all the while, she waited, prayed, that both her husband and her daughter would someday see how much she loved them and they would love her in return.

He stood slowly and tool her in his arms. She wanted to bottle how safe she felt in this moment, so she could drink of it later when loneliness and fear left her parched.

She was angry at him--she knew that, felt it--but as he came toward her, that anger dried up and blew away like dust beneath the longing that mattered so much more.

All her life she had waited—longed for—people to love her, but now she saw what really mattered. She had known love, been blessed by it.

It had been the first kiss for both of them, and to this day, when Dean kissed a woman, he longed for the smell of the sea.

She knew sorrow would hit her later, hit her hard, the sudden, aching realization that her father was Gone, that she'd never pick up the phone and hear his voice again, or go to her mailbox and get a letter written in his bold, sweeping hand.

A kiss?" She repeated it to stall for time. This was the sort of thing that she'd taken for granted before the war. Men desired her; they always had. She wanted that back, wanted to flirt with Henri and be flirted with, and yet the very idea of it felt sad and a little lost, as if perhaps kisses didn't mean much anymore and flirtation even less.

Hey, Daddy," she whispered. It was a split second before she realized that she'd expected an answer. But, of course, there wasn't one. His heart—the one that had loved her so well—had finally given up.

The minute he saw her, he understood what had been missing from his life. It was hokey, he knew, and sentimental and sappy, but that didn't make it any less true. What he'd been longing for, without even realizing it, had been that elusive, magical mixture of friendship and passion that he'd only ever found with her.

She wanted to say "Don't leave me," but she couldn't do it, not again. She was so tired of begging people to love her. Besides

Although she'd been young—only four—Isabelle thought she'd learned what alone meant, but she'd been wrong. In the three years she'd lived at Le Jardin, she'd at least had a sister, even if Vianne was never around. Isabelle remembered peering down from the upstairs window, watching Vianne and her friends from a distance, praying to be remembered, to be invited, and then when

It's fucking awful to want someone you can't have." And with those few words, Kate knew: she had never had a chance with him.

even years from now—when the missing will be so sharp it takes your breath away. But there will be good days, too; months and years of them. In one way or another, you'll be searching for her all your life. You'll find her, too. As you grow up, you'll understand her more and more. I promise you that.

If I had told him the truth long ago, or had danced and drunk and sung more, maybe he would have seen me instead of a dependable, ordinary mother. He loves a version of me that is incomplete. I always thought it was what I wanted: to be loved and admired. Now I think perhaps I'd like to be known.

You will always miss her. I know that from experience. There will be days—even years from now—when the missing will be so sharp it takes your breath away. But there will be good days, too; months and years of them. In one way or another, you'll be searching for her all your life. You'll find her, too. As you grow up, you'll understand her more and more. I promise you that.

In earlier years, she had dreamed of boldly reaching for him, changing how they touched each other, exploring his body with her hands and her mouth; then, upon waking, she'd felt frustrated and swollen with a desire she could neither express nor share. She'd waited years for him to see it, see her, and reach out.

You can't unlove someone even if you want to, even if he breaks your heart.

Now it would never happen; she would never get to know her father, never feel the warmth of his hand in hers, never fall asleep on the divan beside him, never be able to say all that needed to be said between them. Those words were lost, turned into ghosts that would drift away, unsaid. They would never be the family maman had promised. "Papa," she said; it was such a big word suddenly, a dream in its entirety.

she would do anything, suffer anything, to be loved, even if it was just for a night.

How will I stop loving him, Mama? Will I Ã¢â'¬Â¦ forget?" Mama sighed. "Ah. That. Love doesn't fade or die, baby girl. People tell you it does, but it doesn't. If you love him now, you'll love him in ten years and in forty. Differently, maybe, a faded version, but he's part of you now. And you are part of him.

Sometimes it feels like a strength and sometimes like a weakness, but I don't know how to stop loving him.

Matthew grieved for the mother he'd had. He figured Leni would grieve for the dad she wanted.