Quotes About Longing

There was a word from a myth: sathaz . It was the desire to possess that which can never be yours. It meant senseless, hopeless yearning, the way a gutter child might dream of being king, and it came from the tale of the man who loved the moon.

Lazlo. You have to wake up now, my love. And he did.

and when he let her go, it was as if she had been filled and didn't realize it until he pulled away and the absence rushed back in.

Like attracts like, beauty finds beauty, and freaks look on from the smoking section, aching.

The goblins want girls who dream so hard about being pretty their yearning leaves a palpable trail, a scent goblins can follow like sharks on a soft bloom of blood. The girls with hungry eyes who pray each night to wake up as someone else. Urgent, unkissed, wishful girls. Like Kizzy.

Was there another life she was meant to be living? At times she felt a keen certainty that there was ? a phantom life, taunting her from just out of reach. A sense would come over her while she was drawing or walking, and once while she was dancing slow and close with Kaz, that she was supposed to be doing something else with her hands, with her legs, with her body. Something else. Something else. Something else.

Being near her was like balancing on a tipping world, trying to keep your footing as the ground wanted to roll you forward, hurl you into a spiral from which there was no recovery, only impact, and it was a longed-for impact, a sweet and beckoning collision.

Forbid a man something and he craves it like his soul's salvation

Akiva felt the tilt of the world trying to tip him forward: to be nearer to her--nearer and touching--as though that were the only state of rest, and every other action and movement were geared to achieving it.

She may have been the one whose name meant music, but his sounded like it. Saying it made her want to sing it, to lean out a window and call him home. To whisper it in the dark.

I came back to find you," Akiva said. "I don't know why. Karou. Karou. I don't know why." His voice was so faint she could barely hear him. "Just to find you and be in the world that you're in…

A pause came between them, and it was so full of Akiva that Karou imagined she could smell him.

Akiva." "Akiva." It pleased her to say it. She may have been the one whose name meant music, but his sounded like it. Saying it made her want to sing it, to lean out a window and call him home. To whisper it in the dark.

I've been looking forward to this for weeks. You don't even know. It's like, gross hunter, gross hunter, gross hunter, puppet show!

The things that made thier pulse quicken were all the wrong thing..

Anhelar el amor la hacía sentir como un gato que siempre se enrosca en los tobillos maullando acaríciame, acaríciame, mírame,quiéreme. Preferiría ser el gato que observa todo con descaro desde lo alto de una pared, con expresión inescrutable. El gato que evita las caricias, que no las necesita. ¿Por qué no ser ese gato?

There was a man who loved the moon, but whenever he tried to embrace her, she broke into a thousand pieces and left him drenched, with empty arms. Sathaz had finally learned that if he climbed into the pool and kept very still, the moon would come to him and let him be near her. Only near, never touching. He couldn't touch her without shattering her, and so—as Lazlo had told Sarai—he had made peace with the impossible. He took what he could get.

Lazlo had loved Sarai as a dream, and he would love her as a ghost as well.

Seeing her shiver, I want to take her into my coat and button it around her. I want to warm my face against her neck and steam her up like a mirror and write my name on her with my fingertip.

I have scuppies in my pocket and lust in my heart. Tonight's the night.

Karou was plagued by the notion that she wasn't whole. She didn't know what this meant, but it was a lifelong feeling, a sensation akin to having forgotten something. She'd tried describing it to Issa once, when she was a girl. "It's like you're standing in the kitchen, and you know you went in there for a reason, but you can't think of what that reason is, no matter what.

There was always, among them, such a stew of envy and longing. They hated the humans, but they also wanted to be them. They wanted to punish them, and they wanted to be embraced by them. To be accepted, honored, loved, like someone's child. And since they couldn't have any of it, it all took the form of spite. Anyone who has ever been excluded can understand what they felt, and no one has ever been quite so excluded as they.

I have no strategy. I just want to skip all this and get to the part where he's my boyfriend. Not to mention, you know, the part where he's aware I exist.

She'd have to get used to him all over again, taking small sips of his beauty as if it was too hot a drink to swallow all at once.