Quotes About Longing

A sense of having been decoyed by some world-old conspiracy into this bondage of body and soul filled her with despair. If marriage was the slow life-long acquittal of a debt contracted in ignorance, then marriage was a crime against human nature.

I knew I was worthless and at the same time I was convinced somebody would find me worthy, would worship me for this sexual allure so foreign to my understanding yet so central to my being.

Teenagers, flooded with destabilizing hormones and a longing for elsewhere, are particularly prone to the seductive power of dark narratives.

What I had instead was the ache of waiting and the fear I wasn't worthy.

Guy's whole body was humming. Normally he thought only of his head – his eyes, his smile – and was aware of his body as merely the principle of forward propulsion trundling him along. But now he was all these bright pools of sensuality – his nipples, his half-hard cock, his tingling anus, even his feet. He was glowing all over and he felt the animal in him was longing to shed its clothes.

Guy's own erection was so hard it ached, as if it were an angry dog begging to be let out and pawing at the door.

Je rêvais continuellement, durant mon adolescence au pensionnat, d'un adulte (mon prof de gym, l'un des peintres de l'école d'art où nous allions prendre des cours - qui s'occuperait de moi, devinerait mes pensées, anticiperait mes besoins (car je ne les aurais jamais exprimés et lui, s'il m'aimait, serait capable de lire en moi).

Death in Venice made me hope that there might be others like me, somewhere out there, possibly in the ritzy nearby community of Charlevoix. He'd be older, rich, devoted to me and my magical youth.

As a Buddhist I was determined to root out all desires, including especially my "sick" desire for other boys and men. Only through ridding myself of all "hankerings" could I achieve nirvana and escape the endless cycle of rebirth. The odd thing is that the transmigration of the soul from one body (old and ailing) into another (a happy baby's) didn't sound so bad—in fact, it was what most Americans longed for.

Was I grieving because he didn't possess everything, absolutely everything, or because I owned nothing?

But we want young men. Romance. Love and things, I said, despondently.

Opposite to where she sat the water was a boggy brown, but not too far along it was a dark violet colour, always changing, the way the sweep of the current changed, but as she saw it, her own life did not change at all - the same routine, the same longing and the same loneliness.

But we want young men. Romance. Love and things,' I said, despondently.

FOR THREE NIGHTS in a row, Dilly has dreamed of Gabriel, a look of yearning on his face, the clothes hanging off him, making no attempt to come to her and yet making his presence felt, standing on an empty road, like he was waiting. Three nights in a row. "It must mean that he's trying to reach you," Sister says. "It doesn't," Dilly answers

She had always thought that people who had once loved one another kept the faintest trace of it in their being, but not him. He was free of her. Marked of course, but free in a way that she was not. She was still joined by fear, by sexual necessity, by what she knew as love.

divide things equally between both children? If anything should happen to her she is appealing to him to honor this final wish. It is the first letter she has written to her husband in over fifty years, an admission that makes her choke back a tear. Fifty years. The golden jubilee that neither remembered. Fields let for grazing. No more the proud neighing thoroughbreds in the fields, the thoroughbreds on which his hopes centered

You are never out of my mind. I feel the cold more than I used to and this house is big

I am far from those I am with, and far from those I have left.

Qué dices? Y dijo: —Que querría tener otra vida para vivirla contigo. Otra vida para vivirla conmigo. Eso querría. Eso dijo.

Each night Father fills me with dread When he sits on the foot of my bed; I'd not mind that he speaks In gibbers and squeaks, But for seventeen years he's been dead.

Why do I always have to want more?" he asked the river. And receiving no reply, he shook his head.

Unlike the riotous appetites of adolescence, his present cravings had a tragic tinge, they were cravings for the appetites, metacravings, wanting to want.

Most people either felt regret at staying with someone for too long, or regret at losing them too easily. I manage to feel both ways at the same time about the same object.

He had to have her, he definitely had to have her. She was not merely the latest object on which his greedy desire to be saved had fixed itself; no, she was the woman who was going to save him. The woman whose fine intelligence and deep sympathy and divine body, yes, whose divine body would successfully deflect his attention from the gloomy well shaft of his feelings and the contemplation of his past.