Quotes About Pang

She felt an unexpected pang of homesickness (or was it some physical complaint?) and suddenly remembered that it was her mother's birthday today or tomorrow or sometime last week.

John smoked his French Gauloises and drank lots of strong coffee.

Every search committee I've worked with has been full of surprises. And you've got such an odd group. I love that Black therapist—what's his story?" "Adrian?" A proprietary pang hit. Helen, as a therapist and spirited extrovert, was sure to interest him more than I ever could.

For a moment, she thought of Varencienne and an unfamilar pang clenched her heart. My daughter, she thought. Where is she? Will she ever forgive me for this?

Sun and sea air could not burn his skin, it was the same creamy marble hue as at first—though he did look a little pale, either from the cold or in the bluish moonlight of the arc-lamps. The shapely brows were so delicately drawn, the eyes so deeply dark—lovelier he was than words could say, and as often the thought visited Aschenbach, and brought its own pang, that language could but extol, not reproduce, the beauties of the sense.

Rilla," Raoul said, and at the sound of my childhood nickname, my heart gave a pang. "Don't I have the right to claim what is mine?" "Of course you do," I said..."But surely not at any cost.

A familiar pang pierced me, worry mixed with anxiety and a dash of mourning.

To the philosophical mind, these items might seem scarcely worth any great trouble to acquire. Yet no one, however philosophical, could give up those privileges, once acquired, without a pang. That was the point.

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.

They asked him for help rebuilding the farm, but e only shook his head with a pang of longing in his heart. I'm tracking your killers,he whispered to his uncle.

Simon's love life was complicated, but there was a pang, just for a moment, for this woman talking graphic novels with him. Ah, well. Tessa Gray, foxy nerd, was probably dating someone already.

That a pansy is transitive, is its only pang.

I cannot help feeling there is something essentially wrong about love. Friends may quarrel or drift apart, close relations too, but there is not this pang, this pathos, this fatality which clings to love. Friendship never has that doomed look. Why, what is the matter? I have not stopped loving you, but because I cannot go on kissing your dim dear face, we must part, we must part.

There's the Belle for Sexaloitez! And Concepta de Send-us-pray! Pang! Wring out the clothes! Wring in the dew! Godavari, vert the showers! And grant thaya grace! Aman.

And then, he was not there. A terrible storm came over her, as if she were drowning. She was possessed by a devastating hopelessness. And she approached mechanically to the altar. Never had she known such a pang of utter and final hopelessness. It was beyond death, so utterly null, desert.

It is a hard thing to live haunted by the ghost of an untrue dream; to see the wide vision of empire fade into real ashes and dirt; to feel the pang of the conquered, and yet know that with all the Bad that fell on one black day, something was vanquished that deserved to live, something killed that in justice had not dared to die; to know that with the Right that triumphed, triumphed something of Wrong, something sordid and mean, something less than the broadest and best.

Love, that is the pulse of all, the sustenance and the pang […] No other theme but love—knitting, enclosing, all-diffusing love. — Walt Whitman, from "The Mystic Trumpeter", Leaves of Grass (Simon Schuster, August 1st 2006) Originally published July 4th 1855.

As he thought of it, a sharp pang of pain struck through him like a knife and made each delicate fibre of his nature quiver.

The difference between a short story and a novel is the difference between an inarticulate pang in your heart compared to the tragedy of your whole life.

At the thought of her death I felt a confusing pang of genuine distress mixed with elation

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

Sometimes when I saw him at a distance – fists in pockets, whistling, bobbing along with his springy old walk – I would have a strong pang of affection mixed with regret. I forgave him, a hundred times over, and never on the basis of anything more than this: a look, a gesture, a certain tilt of his head.

At the simplicity of the gesture, he felt a pang: the raw nerve of his loneliness exposed.

A familiar pang of dread wrapped its icy hand around my heart." Lorelei Preston-The Wild Hunt