Best 130 quotes in «yearning quotes» category

As he lay there, he was sure that he could still feel the memory of that strange hand cupping the back of his neck; and he couldn't believe how empty his mouth felt, now that it only had his own tongue in it.

As Raimon and Desire listened, Aimeric sang of Carenza's beauty. He sang of the oaths he had given to his lord, the count Bertran, and of another oath, one that he had sworn to Countess Carenza in his heart. He would keep her at the forefront of his thoughts, he would cherish her forever. They would never satisfy their desire, never even kiss one another, but he would be faithful to her until he died.

As we enter the path of transformation, the most valuable thing we have working in our favor is our yearning.

At the core of her senseless actions, she vaguely perceived that she yearned for something. A something that would provide her with a sure sense of fulfillment. But she could not fathom what that something might be.

At the innermost core of all loneliness is a deep and powerful yearning for union with one's lost self.

Autumn. A season. A girl. A memory. Autumn. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. Her smile was infectious. Her laugh was a cure. Autumn. She broke me.

Ay me! sad hours seem long.

A Pause of Thought I looked for that which is not, nor can be, And hope deferred made my heart sick in truth But years must pass before a hope of youth Is resigned utterly. I watched and waited with a steadfast will: And though the object seemed to flee away That I so longed for, ever day by day I watched and waited still. Sometimes I said: This thing shall be no more; My expectation wearies and shall cease; I will resign it now and be at peace: Yet never gave it o'er. Sometimes I said: It is an empty name I long for; to a name why should I give The peace of all the days I have to live?-- Yet gave it all the same. Alas, thou foolish one! alike unfit For healthy joy and salutary pain: Thou knowest the chase useless, and again Turnest to follow it.

Because one look into his eyes, and she was drowning in what existed there and didn’t want to surface.

Because we know he was simply a man, with weakness and frailties. Who yearned for the same things all of us do--to love and be loved

Don’t judge someone else’s sensuality because it is different from yours. You don’t know what part of their soul has been wounded, or needs to be soothed or liberated, or what deep yearning they’re trying to meet. We all want to achieve complete soul-freedom. So don’t judge, instead be discerning so you can be enlightened.

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

But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of today, or the agonies which are have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.

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')

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

How anxiously I yearned for those I had forsake

But the walls of my resolve mortared with stubbornness have been breached by circumstances I cannot handle alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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 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.

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.

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…

. . .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.

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.