Best 130 quotes in «yearning quotes» category

Earning is a product of learning. You're only one letter away from earning more.

Eleanor West spent her days giving them what she had never had, and hoped that someday, it would be enough to pay her passage back to the place where she belonged.

For feverish mornings after he left, she lay awake in that guest room in their house, in the rumples of the sheet he had slept in. She would get him on every turn: his aftershave lingering on the sides of the pillow that sometimes caught her, waking up from her dreams of him, in nuclear nights, his gaze: drenching her like water drops on burning rocks. She herself didn’t have any smell. He had to really lean in the first time to make out the attar amidst the freckles on her neck. And then there would be at least two, never only one: Jasmine and that other thing that he could never place- a smell that was between imitation pearls and the insides of a Durga Puja afternoon. On some days even in Simla, this she, would waft in by his collars nonchalantly.’ ('Left from Dhakeshwari')

Good poetry does not exist merely for the sake of itself, but rather, is a byproduct of yearning and growth; great poetry canonizes that yearning for the growth of others.

He: I have this crazy yearning in my heart, to make you mine. She: Sure, go ahead and make me your bad habit!

He had no idea what missing was. Missing was lying in the dampness of your tears night after night. Missing was a constant hollow spot in the center of your chest. Missing was a yawning ache that was never satisfied.

Grief seems to create losses within us that reach beyond our awareness--we feel as if we're missing something that was invisible and unknown to us while we had it, but is now painfully gone...Longing is not conscious wanting; it's an involuntary yearning for wholeness, for understanding, for meaning, for the opportunity to regain or even simply touch what we've lost.

He is a unicorn. I want to gently capture him and bring him back to my lab for research.

How anxiously I yearned for those I had forsake

He never wanted to see that look of disppointment in her eyes again, yet he couldn't allow himself to be crushed under his own yearning.

He was so stark and male and beautiful that she hungered for him. Physically, to be sure. But also from someplace even more intimate, someplace where heart and soul melded into a yearning so strong, that she wanted to weep from it.

I felt in harmony with the disharmony of others, myself, and the world.

i am infinitely yearning brimming and overflowing in words i discover it’s another way for me to be in tears.

I condemn you. Yet my heart yearns towards you. I would go with you through the fires of death. Yet am happiest alone.

I am not yearning or seeking new beginnings, instead I make these endless roads my own. "April 23, 2002

I can't tell whether a revived man would appreciate his second chance or yearn for the stolen serenity.

If I ever meet you again I’ll just look at your eyes I will try to smile… Smile and savor the moment But we ‘ll live in our own world A world devoid of anxiety and acrimony.

If i live on longer, shall i again, i wonder, yearn for these days ? The world that i once saw as bitter, now, is dear to me !

If only you would realize some day, how much have you hurt me, If only your heart ever, craves for me or my presence… If only you feel that love again someday for me, If only you are affected someday by my absence… Only you can end all my suffering and this unbearable pain, If only you would know what you could never procure… If only you go through the memories of past once again, Since the day you left my heart has bled, no one has its cure… If only you would bring that love, those showers and that rain… If only you would come back and see what damage you create, I’ve been waiting for your return since forever more… If only you would see the woman that you have made, You said we cannot sail through, how were you so sure? If only you can feel the old things that can never fade, You may have moved on, but a piece of my heart is still with you… I know how I’ve come so far alone; I know how I’m able to wade, People say that I’m insane and you won’t ever come back again… Maybe you would have never made your separate way, Maybe you would have stayed with me and proved everyone wrong… If only you would know the pain of dying every day, If only you would feel the burden of smiling and being strong…

If there is passion, let me feel its heat. I want my heart to beat fast, my breath raspy, my skin to burn.

If we only see things through the cold-eyed lens of factuality and don’t listen to the yearning and screaming of unexpressed feelings, life may remain bleak in a mire of clinical hollowness, sodden in apathy and indifference. ("Morning after")

If your art is calling to you, its doing so for a reason. You are feeling a pull toward something for which your soul is yearning.

I knew what it was to yearn for a life so distant it seemed that it had never been anything more than a dream.

If you yearn to learn, you’ll learn to earn.

I'm not your blue-eyed Czech, I'm just a brown-eyed girl, A little mix of rock your world, And now you'll never be the same. You grabbed me by the hand, I grabbed you by the neck. I changed the game, and your convictions. So is it criminal to steal a heart or two? I keep them on the shelf, Like only hunters do. I like it hard I like you high I love your mouth When it's on mine. I wanna hear you make that sound, Cause it's the greatest thing around. Take it off now, Take from here. Watch your head spin When I come near, And you will lose every time, Cause I won't stop until your mine. And they say who the hell is she? They either love me or they hate me. But still they never look away, This vixen's gonna give you everything.

I’m burning in despair Love which you distanced from me Return once again I’ll forgive you again Return, Page 19

I'm looking at the sea on the wall, and even though it's a copy of a copy of the Aegean, I wish you would grab me and take me to Greece.

I miss you like the mismatching sock I can't find. You're out there somewhere.

. . .in your light, had I learned to love, here in your beauty, could I speak knowing of this space close within as the breath held inside a garden rose, there— there is no time.

Loving you is no more a beautiful memory, but now just a pain, I cry and weep every time I walk down the memory lane, Your love always completed me in every sense as a whole, But now it’s just emptiness and sorrow in my heart that drains, Of all the people in the world, you choose me to be hurt, Of all the hearts in the world, you choose mine to break… Why did you leave me I ask myself every morning and dawn? Why my love was incomplete tell me why you were gone? A silence surrounds my heart and fills it again with despair, Oh this pain is just too much, and the damage beyond repair, Please come back baby, just come back and bring that old smile, Or just come to see me every once in a while, So my heart no more bleeds, and no more my soul aches, So I can be peaceful after my death, in my ashes and burnt flakes…

Ist es wahr, was der Straßenkehrer gesagt hat? Dass alles Böse mit dem Vergessen einer Sehnsucht beginnt?« »Es beginnt früher«, antwortet der Dschinn. »Es beginnt immer mit einer verlorenen Hoffnung.« Und später, viel später, als der Knabe schon an die Spiele denkt, die er bald spielen wird, murmelt der Dschinn, längst wieder allein und eingeschlossen in seinem Turm aus Eis, noch einmal vor sich hin: »Niemand vermag zu ermessen, wohin es mit einem kommen kann, der die Hoffnung verloren hat …

It hurts to breathe. It hurts to live. I hate her, yet I do not think I can exist without her.

I, too, head for the Baths of Caracalla, thinking—with my old, magnificent privilege of thinking… (And let there still be a god in me that thinks, lost, weak, and childish, yet whose voice is so human it is almost a song.) Oh, to leave this prison of poverty! To be free of the yearning that makes these ancient nights so splendid! He who knows yearning, and he who does not, have something in common: man’s desires are humble.

I wasn’t at all comforted by that idea, by the possibility of multiple afterlives and a soul hungering through them for eternity.

I wish I had water. I wish I had something to read.

LONG YEARNING Long yearning, To be in Chang'an. The grasshoppers weave their autumn song by the golden railing of the well; Frost coalesces on my bamboo mat, changing its colour with cold. My lonely lamp is not bright, I’d like to end these thoughts; I roll back the hanging, gaze at the moon, and long sigh in vain. The beautiful person's like a flower beyond the edge of the clouds. Above is the black night of heaven's height; Below is the green water billowing on. The sky is long, the road is far, bitter flies my spirit; The spirit I dream can't get through, the mountain pass is hard. Long yearning, Breaks my heart.

It is rooted deep in your bones; the water calls out to you until it causes you physical pain unless you come to it.

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

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

Love is circumstantial; we can love anyone if need be; and losing the one we love is the singular catastrophe. Time does not heal it. Every present moment yearns for even the roughest past.

Maybe she had it wrong all this time and her empty heart could never be filled by his ingenious broken spirit. Maybe this yearning had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with her.

MOTHER IS WATER I wish I could Shower your head with flowers And anoint your feet with my tears, For I know I have caused you So much heartache, frustration and despair – Throughout my youthful years. I wish I could give you The remainder of my life To add to yours, Or simply erase The lines on your face, And mend all that has been torn. For next to God, You are the fire That has given light To the flame in each of my eyes. You are the fountain That nourished my growth, And from your chalice – Gave me life. Without the wetness of your love, The fragrance of your water, Or the trickling sounds of Your voice, I shall always feel thirsty.

part memory part distance remaining mine in the ways that I learn to miss you

My earnest desire for you has brought me to a point, where the life I've imagined we shall have, seems like a distant memory.

Oh, do you understand what I mean? Have you ever felt that about the Moon? Have you ever ached with the sheer beauty of it?

One day incentives may catch up with inflation, but it will never catch up with our aspirations.

my heart, sometimes singing in the afternoon, the most haunting song of solitude

My poems are my prayers for my Love, And in this way only, I have chosen to worship Him in this life. O you, witness of my joys, And follower of my madness. Will you read them aloud every time, So may He hear my grievances, That how much I have yearned Him in this life.

Oh pillow, please continue to kiss my cheek round. I'll let you listen to my dreams to see the girl you'll never meet.

One is in 'Waiting' Even after it's over Grief comes to stay Never up for closure ... There is no escape ever One is always yearning Grief envelops those Left behind in 'waiting' ... ‘Staying stuck’ in pain Hiding deep in the heart 'Let go' ! Yes, but how To make a new start ... One has to live in the Dark blind ‘Black-hole’ Until Light would grace Rekindling a 'Whole' (Page 49)