Quotes About Longing

She and I had survived long separations, and we had never been especially monogamous—she liked to quote Janis Joplin: Honey, get it while you can.

He stood there unsteady in the cold, mumbling syllables which almost resolved into her name, as though he could recall, and summon back, a time before death entered the world, before accident, before magic, and before magic despaired, to become religion.

He had, by now, the look of a man who was waiting for something which had happened long before.

Even in sleep, he was waiting, a little tense like everyone waiting within reach of a telephone, for it to ring. And still, even in sleep, he knew there would be time. Adam, after all, lived for nine hundred thirty years.

The lust of summer gone, the sun made its visits shorter and more uncertain, appearing to the city with that discomfited reserve that sense of duty of the lover who no longer loves.

Go out among them and tell them that their nostalgia for places they have never been is sex

He wanted her the rest of his life, and failing that, he wanted permission to walk along beside her while she lived it.

He was seized with longing so intense it ached in his chest, he wanted it always to keep, to drag out secretly and study it like a yellowed photograph, and he thought I am home, this is me, this is where I have been rambling down to all these years.

What he wanted, he had realized in the last few minutes, was everything. He wanted the rest of her life, and failing that, he wanted permission to walk along beside her while she lived it.

All the meat, he thought, and all it wants.

She looks after him, feeling a wave of longing, loneliness. Not sexual particularly but to do with the nature of cities, the thousands of strangers you pass in a day, probably never to see again.

Not if I remember to take my pills, he said, as a tangible wave of longing hit him, lust and loneliness riding in on the wavelength of amphetamine.

I'm frightened. Of us. I want to go home. Oh God, I want to go home.

Allí estaba el mundo deslumbrante de la caza, la táctica, la destreza y la alegría salvaje; y allí estaba también el mundo de las añoranzas y el sentido común desconcertado.

You never loved me, nobody never loved me. I wanted to be loved, I wanted somebody to be kind to me - I wanted- She wanted tenderness. So did I; but not from her. She was no part of high fantasy and worship and hopeless jealousy. She was the accessible thing.

The Prince found Buttercup waiting unhappily outside his chamber doors. It's my letter,' she began. 'I cannot make it right.' Come in, come in,' the Prince said gently. 'Maybe we can help you.' She sat down in the same chair as before. 'All right, I'll close my eyes and listen; read to me.' Westley, my passion, my sweet, my only my own. Come back, come back. I shall kill myself otherwise. Yours in torment, Buttercup.' She looked at Humperdinck. 'Well? Do you think I'm throwing myself at him?

Isn't it awful what we'll do in this world to feel wanted?

Buttercup's parents did not have exactly what you might call a happy marriage. All they ever dreamed of was leaving each other.

When I left you, he whispered, you were already more beautiful than anything I dared to dream. In our years apart, my imaginings did their best to improve on your perfection. At night, your face was forever behind my eyes. And now I see that that vision who kept me company in my loneliness was a hag compared to the beauty now before me.

Westley, my passion, my sweet, my only, my own. Come back, come back. I shall kill myself otherwise. Yours in torment, Buttercup. She looked at Humperdinck. Well? Do you think I'm throwing myself at him? It does seem a bit forward, the Prince admitted.

She fell fast and she fell hard, but what did that matter, since she would have gladly dropped a thousand feet onto a bed of nails if Westley had been waiting at the bottom. Down

That was all he ever answered. "As you wish.

if you do not kiss my mouth, Inigo Montoya of Spain, I will more than likely die.

Westley, my passion, my sweet, my only, my own. Come back, come back. I shall kill myself otherwise. Yours in torment, Buttercup.' She looked at Humperdinck. Well? Do you think I'm throwing myself at him? It does seem a bit forward, the Prince admitted. It doesn't leave him a great deal of room to maneuver.