Best 608 quotes in «longing quotes» category

It is poetic and lyrical; words that spill forth like cool waters into the dusty dry rock bed of the Soul desiring love. It has been said that I’ve lived in the desert all my life and do not know what it means to be wet.

It occurs to me that I really can't remember your face in any precise detail. Only the way you walked away through the tables in the café, your figure, your dress, that I still see.

It seems that in the spiritual world, we do not really find something until we first lose it, ignore it, miss it, long for it, choose it, and personally find it again--but now on a new level.

It seemed to me that transhumanism was an expression of the profound human longing to transcend the confusion and desire and impotence and sickness of the body, cowering in the darkening shadow of its own decay. This longing had historically been the domain of religion, and was now the increasingly fertile terrain of technology.

It's not that I wait for you. It's that my arms are doors I cannot close.

It starts between two suns Between dream and sleep Like a sigh after oblivion -The way you hold the night. It goes on in a kiss So many pains exchanged Like a song of compassion -The way you reveal my name. It ends In my body It ends In a shiver Where we remain only Two souls And, naturally, We recognize each other.

It was as if she had thought him into existence again, as if her mind were a flask into which had been poured a measure of longing, a measure of discontent, a measure of fatigue, a dash of bitterness, and pouf, there he stood.

It was just the golden sunlight, ink-stain asphalt and the woman he’d always wished was his.

It was long since I had longed for anything and the effect on me was horrible.

It was suffering and incapacity that created all afterworlds - this, and that brief madness of bliss which is experienced only by those who suffer deeply. Weariness that wants to reach the ultimate with one leap, with one fatal leap, a poor ignorant weariness that does not want to want any more: this created all gods and afterworlds.

I understood it in my bones. Longing made the music bigger.

It was our first time really talking to one another. We talked about the weather. Now, I dont like surface conversations about the weather. It seems to just be a way to have a polite conversation because there isn't really much else to say. Sometimes it's a way to buffer an awkward situation, or light enough of a topic to carry in passing and quickly abandon without anything left hanging. But this particular weather discussion was far from that. It was so eloquent. We talked about how the weather can inspire certain longings. It was laced with romantic intonations. You could sense the magnitude of how powerful this energy transfer between us in the climate we were existing in, already was and could be.

I've always tried to make a home for myself, but I have not felt at home in myself. I've worked hard at being the hero of my own life. But every time I checked the register of displaced persons, I was still on it. I didn't know how to belong. Longing? Yes. Belonging? No.

I want a love that will make me forget to check my social media.” - Brett Biaggio, The Blessed Scott O'Brien

I will lead a man to dear one -- I don't want the little joy -- And I'll quietly lay to sleep The glad, tired little boy. In a chilly room once more I will pray to Mother of God, It is hard to be a hermit, To be happy is also hard. Only fiery sleep will come to me, I'll enter a temple on the hill, Five-domed, white, and stone-hewn, On the paths remembered well.

I was like a ten-year-old kid who had been scraped off a mother's love so sudden and surreal that I kept hoping I could chant a few magical words and slowly, Mama Jas would materialise in front of me.

I was so incredibly nostalgic for a life I knew I'd never, ever have again.

I will look at you in the darkness of the night, where there are no colours to fill my eyes and where there are no frames that would define your shape. In the silence, I will seek the warmth of the night in your memories and sleep holding tight those orphan dreams. O dear, amidst the cloudy skies, where did you disappear?

I will never claim to know what you are thinking. I only hope I am on your mind.

I wish I knew how to get you back. And apparently fate won't let me give up" From Central Park Song: a Screenplay

I wanted desperately to be part of our pack; I felt a hole inside myself where my pack should have been.

I wish I had heard him more clearly: an oblique confession is always a plea.

I wish to stay drenched forever in those rain-blue eyes in those...soul-reaching crystals not moving a muscle nor breathing just savoring this turquoise ache against my heart.

I wonder if you ever read my poems and wish they were written for you.

Living in a state of constant wistful despair, perhaps, will be my destiny, said the traveller. Longing to be touched by you, will perhaps, be mine, whispered back the horizon.

Love is what we long for, for we are Love itself.

Longing, whether for a passion or person, is one of the most powerful, yet painful, emotions there is. It can drive you to its source under the most extreme conditions, or it can cripple you from obtaining your dreams. When it comes to the pull you feel, always go after it, if not, it'll eat you alive.

Long past the moment when her neck begins to stiffen and ache, she continues to stare into the darkness, even though none of the human secrets she needs to know are to be found in the stars but rather closer to the earth her boots stand upon.

Longing was a feeling that was hard to live with. It didn’t ask permission. It didn’t pay attention to time or place. It was overwhelming and demanding, grasping and selfish. It clouded thoughts or made them too bright, too sharp. Longing demanded unconditional surrender. Lumikki tried to fight it and failed. She didn’t want to long and yet she longed. She didn’t want to remember, and yet her dreams and her body remembered, reminding her constantly. The longing was physical. It was dizziness. It was a seizing in her belly. It was the need to wrap her arms around herself alone in bed when there was no one else to do it for her. She felt the longing in her fingertips that yearned to stroke, to touch, to caress. The longing made her fingers restless, fiddling with the zipper of her jacket, the strings in her hoodie, fidgeting with whatever little thing happened to her hand. The longing made her teeth bite into her lower lip, leaving it chipped and almost bleeding. She knew she was being stupid. She knew her longing was pointless.

Love can't exist without longing.

Love is the essence of life, Love is the universal language of all creation, Love is the eternal desire, Love is the life's flower with fragrance to share, So feel the longing for love and being beloved.

Love ... was part imagination, its web spun as much in the dark lonely separated evenings of longing as in the shared times together.

Lying half-asleep in his embrace, I looked up and saw on his face the same expression I saw on countless lonely faces every day. It was the homesick look of the children who were lost in the chaos of warfare, witnessing death and disaster, longing for a meaningful touch.

Methinks I lied all winter, when I swore My love was infinite, if spring makes it more.

Maybe our bodies are just hearts with legs and that’s why we’re so quick to run.

May the light be in you forever, May the sun love you and keep you, May the dream make you awaken. For the stars love to shine upon you, And the heavens cry for your loss. May goodness and love flow through you once more, Drink of the light and the love here, Find that we all need you, May your spirit come back across.

Memories lurk like dustballs in the backs of drawers. The stereo is a special model that plays only music fraught with poignant associations.

Mika: Were you happy? Hiro: I was so happy.

Miró hacia la biblioteca. Aquella sabiduría no calmaría nunca su fuego; siglos y siglos de palabras no podían satisfacer aquel deseo imperativo e irracional.

MOMENTS I saw you first You looked exactly The same as before Tall and awkward and shy I walked towards you My hands clammy I felt cold inside My insides were shaking Cant run This is it. U saw me Your face brightened A smile painted on your face I missed it Your smile It brought back the past You walked I walked Nearer It feels like in the Movies Two people A boy and a girl Meeting halfway Hoping for a happy Ever after I stopped Right before I reached you I realized This isn't like the movies I turned I told myself Don’t smile You reached me Close So close I felt the urge To touch you Hug you And maybe Kiss you There weren't Hellos Only silent prayers Smiling You reached for my hand Giving me something You knew I love It was awkward You standing there Me standing there So close Too close Yet so far I looked up to you I tried to ask myself Are you for real? You smiled wider Shy but happy You left as fast As you came back It was for a second I hated time I wished it was A little bit longer With that, I knew I still want you.

Maybe he would see me as weak and stupid. Maybe he was right.

Min ene sko knirker af mangel på stjerneskud

MODERN LOVE is so pathetic because of people's shallowness. Clearly people don't really care about understanding the actual deeper needs of others. The word 'longing' makes them cringe because they intrinsically know it's calling them into a DEEP PLACE OF CONNECTION. They'd rather open another bag of Dorridos, I tell you.

My beloved has arrived, but rather than greeting him, All I can do is bite the corner of my apron with a blank expression- What an awkward woman am I. My heart has longed for him as hugely and openly as a full moon But instead I narrow my eyes, and my glance to him Is sharp and narrow as the crescent moon. But then, I'm not the only one who behaves this way. My mother and my mother's mother were as silly and stumbling as I am when they were girls... Still, the love from my heart is overflowing, As bright and crimson as the heated metal in a blacksmith's forge.

...my body has become another country and I feel like an unemployed illegal alien how will I survive where I do not belong I belong with you

My lips have touched more bottles than lovers and I'm half a shot away from psychotic.

My letters! all dead paper, mute and white! And yet they seem alive and quivering Against my tremulous hands which loose the string And let them drop down on my knee to-night. This said, -- he wished to have me in his sight Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring To come and touch my hand ... a simple thing, Yet I wept for it! -- this, ... the paper's light ... Said, Dear I love thee; and I sank and quailed As if God's future thundered on my past. This said, I am thine -- and so its ink has paled With lying at my heart that beat too fast. And this ... O Love, thy words have ill availed If, what this said, I dared repeat at last!

My mind is being consumed by you. My body is longing for you. Just one touch or a kiss, And I shall be satiated for a thousand years.

My dear boy, looking like a thing has little to do with being a thing. Be the thing first, and you will grow to resemble it.

New York,” I have a good friend there. I found a job, a place. I had to- away from here; away from Bella; from you.” Swallowing, I clasped my hands together to stop from trembling and I said in a low, audible voice, “From me?” He sighed heavily. “I can’t love you, Helena. I still love Bella. And I suppose I could love another woman in another way at the same time, but not you.” “…but why?” I tried hard to keep my voice and gaze even. I glanced at the plain wedding ring on the third finger on his left hand, his wedding band. It was gleaming brightly in the firelight. I felt my heart plummet, like a disappointed child. Seeking the right words, he replied with a very soft voice, “It’s because I would always see you as an extension of her. I want to fall in love with you in separate way, the one that involves only us, uninfluenced by the past and our hurt. I can’t do that now and I can’t tell when I’ll be able to.