Quotes About Longing

The train braked. Five-minute stop. The man got off. All very ordinary, of course. But still. Flore came back, passed by me. She touched my arm, returned to her seat. I could have ripped my arm off. You don't need two arms. One good arm, fine, and the other one, the one she'd just touched, in formaldehyde. On the mantelpiece. In my big apartment. When she leaves me.

Groaning, he gripped his fists in the wild stuff. "Contessa.God, Contessa." She straightened, changing the angle, changing the pleasure. She shook her hair back and undulated. She was a contessa.A princess.No,a queen.

corners of her eyes, and she squeezed them tight, mortified that she might have to explain—again—a crying jag. It had just been so long since she'd snuggled up to something this big, this warm, this human. "You smell better than Grimm," she said against Ryan's mouth. He drew back a little. "What?" She discovered her tears had dried up and

I did love him. But I did not love him like I loved Dutchy: beyond reason. Maybe you only get one of those in a lifetime, I don't know. But it was all right. It was enough.

It is a terrible thing to find the love of your life.... You know too well what you're missing when it's gone.

It is a terrible thing to find the love of your life, Christina, she says. You know too well what you're missing when it's gone.

The truth is, even if you make a pact with yourself that you're not looking and don't care, a piece of you is always waiting for love to happen.

I didn't follow my heart, Angela. I followed my head. And when it comes down to it, the longing in the heart lingers. Do you want to know the truth?" I nod, though I'm not sure I do. "I wish I had not left. I did what I thought would save me from heartache, but in many ways it kept me from living.

Cavilo sobre el papel, tratando de derramar mi corazón en la página. Pero solo se me ocurren las mismas palabras, y espero que la profundidad del sentimiento que hay tras ellas les dé peso y sustancia. «Te amo. Te echo de menos. Ten cuidado.»

You could be my daughter, you know," Mr. Byrne tells me. "Your name—Dorothy . . . we always said we'd give to our own child someday, but alas it didn't come to pass. And here you are, red hair and all.

I puzzle over the onionskin, trying to spill my heart onto the page. But I can only come up with the same words, in the same order, and hope the depth of feeling beneath them gives them weight and substance. I love you. I miss you.

I did not love him the way I loved Dutchy: beyond reason. Maybe you only get one of those in a lifetime.

It's a longing for things to come, possibilities unfolding before me, the charged expectation of change.

Because I want every breath you take to be empty unless you're close enough to smell me. Every word you speak to be unimportant unless it's to me. Every sound you hear empty unless it's my voice. I want you to remember that whatever pleasure you have from now on, you'll have it from me. ~Rurik Wilder~

Ah me, but where are now the songs I sang When life was sweet because you call'd them sweet?

My heart is breaking for a little love

She cried, "Laura," up the garden, "Did you miss me? Come and kiss me. Never mind my bruises, Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices Squeezed from goblin fruits for you, Goblin pulp and goblin dew. Eat me, drink me, love me; Laura, make much of me; For your sake I have braved the glen And had to do with goblin merchant men.

He feeds upon her face by day and night, And she with true kind eyes looks back on him, Fair as the moon and joyful as the light: Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim; Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright; Not as she is, but as she fills his dream.

Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live My very life again though cold in death; Come back to me in dreams, that I may give Pulse for pulse, breath for breath: Speak low, lean low, As long ago, my love, how long ago

I'll love him til he loves me best Me best of all, Maude Clare

Somewhere or other there must surely be The face not seen, the voice not heard, The heart that not yet - never yet — ah me! Made answer to my word. Somewhere or other, may be near or far; Past land and sea, clean out of sight; Beyond the wandering moon, beyond the star That tracks her night by night. Somewhere or other, may be far or near; With just a wall, a hedge, between; With just the last leaves of the dying year Fallen on a turf grown green.

For I have hedged me with a thorny hedge, I live alone, I look to die alone: Yet sometimes, when a wind sighs through the sedge, Ghosts of my buried years, and friends come back, My heart goes sighing after swallows flown On sometime summer's unreturning track.

For all night long I dreamed of you: I woke and prayed against my will, Then slept to dream of you again.

For I am bound with fleshly bands, Joy, beauty, lie beyond my scope; I strain my heart, I stretch my hands, And catch at hope.