Quotes About Pang

Behold! The brook is murmuring and murmuring, but I know not of what. My heart is yearning and yearning, and I know not of what. I cherish the murmur of the brook. I cherish the pang of my lonely heart." The

One day, we were going to the studio for John's recording session, and as we were leaving to get to the studio, in the elevator, all of a sudden, John leaned over and gave me a kiss. He said, 'I've been waiting to do this all day.' I said, 'What are you talking about?' What happened was, he'd liked me.

But far within him something cried For the great tragedy to start, The pang in lingering mercy fall And sorrow break upon his heart. —EDWIN MUIR

He felt a strange pang. It was, perhaps, the fault of old Mr Jonathan, speaking of Juliet... No Juliet here - unless perhaps one could imagine Juliet a survivor - living on, deprived of Romeo... Was it not an essential part of Juliet's make-up that that she should die young?

No love or pity, pardon or excuse should soften the sharp pang of reparation for the guilty man.

To the last moment of his breath, On hope the wretch relies; And even the pang preceding death Bids expectation rise.

I feel this pang of regret whenever I watch sport; this sense that I will never play a big match again.

I felt a strange pang of jealousy. Walt and Anubis seemed to have spent more time talking with each other than with me. Walt was suddenly an expert on all things deathly. Meanwhile, I couldn't even be near Anubis without invoking the wrath of his chaperone—Shu, the god of hot air. It wasn't bloody fair!

That farewell kiss which resembles greeting, that last glance of love which becomes the sharpest pang of sorrow.

Once I saw large waves Crested with white-caps; A driving wind Transformed the caps Into scudding spray. "Swift souls," I addressed them— They turned towards me Startled Sea-descending faces; But I, not they, Felt the pang of transience.

Failures plagued me. Things I had omitted or ignored, neglected. What I should have given and hadn't. I felt the biting pang of every unfulfillment.

I feel this pang inside – Is it my soul trying to break out, Or the world's soul trying to break in? My mind trembles with the shimmering leaves. My heart sings with the touch of sunlight. My life is glad to be floating with all things Into the blue of space and the dark of time.

Most people have come to know the time that John Lennon and I spent together as The Lost Weekend. I am always surprised by how many people are under the impression that our time together lasted only a single weekend.

That engagement was such a farce, that she never had much faith in it, so she put her love way in a corner of her heart, and tried to forget it, hoping it would either die, or have a right to live...Polly had a pang, and thought she couldn't possibly bear it. But she always found she could, and so came to the conclusion that it was a merciful provision of nature that girls' hearts could stand so much, and their appetites continue good, when unrequited love was starving.

The wretch condemn'd with life to part, Still, still on hope relies; And every pang that rends the heart Bids expectation rise.

You thought you had the choice to stay still or move forward, but your didn't. As long as your heart kept pumping an your blood kept blowing and your lungs kept filling, you didn't. The pang she felt for Tibby carried something like envy. You couldn't stand still for anything short of death, and God knew she had tried.

Every sighting of this mystery man yielded a frisson, as if he were my guardian angel keeping tabs on me, followed by a pang of anxiety at the thought that I might never see him again.

I woke up in London one morning in the middle of an adrenaline surge, and I was just lying there - the sun was coming up - trying to think of the best way to describe this feeling, and 'pang' was the only word I could really use to describe it.

Gazing out at the placid sea of bricky gables, at the pleasant parks and school playgrounds, I felt a pang of resentment, the same pain I remembered when my wife kissed me fondly, waved a little shyly from the door of our Chelsea apartment, and walked out on me for good. Affection could reveal itself in the most heartless moments.

I think the responsibility of writers is to convey the feelings that exist in the moment, the moment of that sharp and immediate pang of sour smiles when your heart suddenly starts pumping ice through your veins and becomes difficult and visual perception takes on the appearance of cinematographer on Cops, with unsteady frames and jostling scenes, running through a backyard chasing perpetrators.

In our nature, however, there is a provision, alike marvelous and merciful, that the sufferer should never know the intensity of what he endures by its present torture, but chiefly by the pang that rankles after it.

Oh, no, he thought with a curious pang about the heart, he had not imagined it.

My father looked as if I'd just gutted him, and I felt a pang of regret—but it was mingled with a twisted sense of satisfaction. It felt good to hurt his feelings—it was payback for the way his choices had irrevocably damaged my own.

And a pang is ultimately private. It's not a thing that gets broadcast to the world; it's a kind of internal alarm that sounds when something has to change and it has to change fast.