Quotes About Longing

her cry is a hook and it catches me in the throat.

I just want to be the size of a galaxy so I can eat all the stars and gas giants without them noticing and getting upset. Is that so bad? Isn't that what love looks like? Isn't that what you want, too?

At night, she whispered into the pipes: I hate it here. Please take me away, let me be something other than Marya, something magical, with a round belly. Frighten me, make me cry, only come back.

The world is not made of countries and outsiders. We are all just humans, and most of us fools and all of us longing for more than we have, to know more than we know--and yet even that is not enough, for if we knew everything we would only be disappointed that there was not one more secret to uncover.

Old things have strange hungers.

She had not known before that she wanted all these things, that she preferred dark hair and a slightly cruel expression, that she wished for tallness, or that a man kneeling might thrill her.

Where human children have years and years in which to grow their hearts and learn to live with them while staying safe from all the troubles a heart hauls with it, a Changeling starts out raw and red and full of longing. Some small ones learn to stitch together a Coat of Scowls r s SCarf of Jokes to hide their Hearts. Some hammer up a Fort of Books to protect theirs. Some walk around naked, though no one can see it but you and I.

I will not disappoint you, I promise. My name is Gleam. Take me with you. I held you in the dark. I defied straw sandals to bring you sunfruit. I am worth something. One hundred and twelve years is worth something.

Where human children have years and years in which to grow their hearts and learn to live with them while staying safe from all the troubles a heart hauls with it, a Changeling starts out raw and red and full of longing. Some small ones learn to stitch together a Coat of Scowls or a Scarf of Jokes to hide their Hearts. Some hammer up a Fort of Books to protect theirs. Some walk around naked, though no one can see it but you and I.

Of all the Fairy strangeness she had known, this seemed suddenly both the strangest and least strange of all. How she would have liked to be looked after like that, cared for and watched over. And yet at the same time, she understood the Whelk, and wished she could grow big enough to hold on to everyone she loved at once. To keep them safe and with her always and know their secret needs well enough to answer them.

And in her long nights, in her long house of smoke and miller's stones, she baked the bread we eat in dreams, strangest loaves, her pies full of anguish and days long dead, her fairy-haunted gingerbread, her cakes wet with tears.

It is not the sea that calls us back. What calls us is stronger and more inexorable than any current. I long for the sea, yes… but more, I long for the leaving. I am restless, I am ready, and the leaving whispers to me at night. It says that I will breathe easier when the air is full of fog and seagulls, that I will breathe easier when I am at the start of a story, rather than at the end.

It is a terrible magic in this world to ask for exactly the thing you want. Not least because to know exactly the thing you want and look it in the eye is a long, long labor.

When you are this hungry, you cannot even remember who you used to be, she whispered. Who you might have been, if not for the hunger.

September drank in the starry sky with a longing and a tugging and a sigh. All the way up, to that enormous crescent in the black.

That's what a map is, you know. Just a memory. Just a wish to go back home - someday, somehow.

One is always homesick for places where one came to grief.

How poor you are, September. You make my heart groan. I know about Homesickness. It begins with H. What will you do?

The thing I hate about being dead is you can't move on. I was in love with him when I died, so I'll be in love with him till the sun burns out.

But a person's smell and their alarms and borrowed shirts and secret words linger for a long time. Much longer than a house.

It's the Sea of Restlessness," he said. "Fills you up with go go go, like you're a bowl full of reaching and wanting but you don't know what you're reaching and wanting for.

At the bottom of philosophy something very true and very desperate whispers: Everyone is hungry all the time. Everyone is starving. Everyone wants so much.. Everyone is hungry and not only for food - for comfort and love and excitement and the opposite of being alone. Almost everything awful anyone does is to get those things and keep them... Most often you have to make the world you want out of yourself

Dreams keep the heart alive.

I want to skip this part. I want to pull on the arm of my slot machine and let the rolls flip over until they show a green tree in the summertime, and me away from that house, walking tall under a blue sky.