Quotes About Longing

Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea, And the hunter home from the hill.

But in the room there was nothing but the exciting scent of the girl and her wanting. We

staring out windows impossible to defenestrate therefrom.

With him, life was routine; without him, life was unbearable.

Love is very beautiful, but very, very sad.

It was dreadful, when she thought about it with the tiniest bit of hindsight, to admit this was the case. That a small part of herself was such a masochist, so enjoyed putting herself through all of this, that she liked hearing sad songs on the radio and staring gloomily out the window late at night. The tears in her eyes as she walked home of an evening, thinking about how much she loved him and how great they were together. It was so adolescent.

Not to be with the one you love, Laura, the one person you should be spending your life with--it's like a kind of living death. To wake up every morning and know you are still here. To have that brief, sweet moment of blankness, before your mind reminds you who you are, and why you are unhappy. It was like hell. A living hell of the heart's own making.

She missed him. And she was scared, deep down, because she felt him pulling away from her, and even though he assured her he wasn't, she didn't believe him.

Are you sure it wouldn't work?" said Jo urgently, in a quiet voice. "Are you sure you don't want to see him again? Laura wanted to laugh. Those were two totally separate things, weren't they?

That happy ending business - it's all a bit contrived. I don't ever believe it." How unromantic. It wasn't true either. The truth was, Elle wanted to believe in happy ever after, more than anything. But to admit it would be to discount what she knew to be the real facts of life. So she didn't know how to admit that she longed, secretly, to have her perspective changed, by something or someone, she didn't know which.

I just whispered mother dear where is Mary she's not here All the world seemed dark and sadness came to me She just pointed to the spot in that little church yard lot Where my sweetheart sleeps in sunny Tennessee

I have those dreams that you can't put into words.

I'm afraid love is just a word.

I sank back on that couch, looking at Peggy Walker, wanting her. It happened that fast and that terribly. If it never happened to you like that, count yourself among the lucky, and God how I pity you. That's the way it happened to me, and I looked at Peggy and knew everything I wanted was there, the ankles, the breasts, the smell of her hair. I

It's a long way to Tipperary, it's a long way to go;It's a long way to Tipperary, to the sweetest girl I know!Goodbye, Piccadilly, farewell, Leicester Square,It's a long, long way to Tipperary, but my heart's right there!

Unrequited love is beautiful, its so beautiful that it teaches you a lot of lessons that you could never have learnt other wise, for example you really can feel money cant buy you happiness. No amount of money can make her love you back.

There are no stars tonight but those of memory.

"For a while" is a phrase whose length can't be measured. At least by the person who's waiting.

Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I'm gazing at a distant star. It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago. Maybe the star doesn't even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.

Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time.

But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drink, the very air I breathe, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o'clock in the morning.

Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I'm gazing at a distant star. It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago. Maybe the star doesn't even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.

But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drink, the very air I breathe, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o'clock in the morning.

I just want to be loved, is that so wrong?!