Best 130 quotes in «yearning quotes» category

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.

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, 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.

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…

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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?

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)

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

She made him yearn for a future his kind could never have, and a connection he sure as hell didn’t deserve.

Poetry is the yearning of the soul to break free!

Remember when we were children and life was simple; how I yearn to return to those days.

She wondered how many towns like this existed all over the country?Bucolic scenery on the outside, with its own private soap operas, gossips and hells on the inside. She wondered if the suburbs in huge cities were merely a collection of small towns, piled on top of each other and each place was ultimately the same. The thought struck her as exceedingly depressing. However, her spirits were not in their best shape.

She was my opposite, but I wanted to be like her. I wanted to fall in love underneath a tree, fast and hard. I wanted someone to forget me and then remember me in their soul, like her Caleb did.

Siang merenggangkan kita. Aku. Kamu. Membuatku mendadak terserang rindu yang menggebu-gebu.

that I thought of you—of the air that slipped between the strands of your hair, and blue stones in my hand, before the autumn damasks bloom their last, before these blue stones are lain forgotten as the blossoms of plum trees I could not render in my artless hands

Sometimes, we do ourselves a disservice to yearn for what we've lost. For if we try to find it again, we might discover faults and blemishes memory has been kind enough to erase.

Success is transient. Failure makes us diligent. But yearning to succeed is constant.

...that yearning inside you that seeks for fulfillment - does it still burn?...

The ocean exerts an inexorable pull over sea people wherever they are-in a bright-lit, inland city or the dead center of a desert-and when they feel the tug there is no choice but somehow to reach it and stand at its immense, earth-dissolving edge, straightaway calmed.

The fairest things have fleetest end, Their scent survives their close: But the rose's scent is bitterness To her who loved the rose.

The essence of faith … is the idea that that which man wishes actually is: he wishes to be immortal, therefore he is immortal; he wishes for the existence of a being who can do everything which is impossible to Nature and reason, therefore such a being exists[.]

There had to be one universe — just this one — where we don’t end up together. Here and now just happens to be it.

The problem was that the only reality he could see what a nut-brown nymph who could whisper like a song and move like a river of honey.

There,far on an unknown chasm,the horizon kiss the sea,in its departing moves rather like the deep console of mind touches the seriousness of a maiden heart in her yearning runs for blithe.

There is an inimitable yearning in my soul that pines for your soul.

There was no desire in him for a state or condition, no picture in his mind of the thing to be when he had followed his longing; but only a burning and a will overpowering to journey outward and outward after the earliest risen star.

There’s a dream I keep having,“ Sheridan whispered into the telephone. “The dream has always been the same—until tonight.” “And what happened tonight?” asked Lil’ John. Sheridan hesitated, his words stumbling out in tentative phrases: “The man in my dream . . . he spoke to me for the first time . . . he told me of a sacred gift that had been lost . . . a gift that could save the world.” “Your dream,” John urged gently. “Is the gods conspiring to give you freedom, just like the elders sang that night in the Sundance ceremony:” When worlds collide There sounds a tolling A call to rise And seize the moment The gods conspire To give us freedom When worlds collide The journey has begun Sheridan pulled at the collar of his t-shirt, Lil’ John’s words suffocating him. Pushing back from the precipice of dread, Sheridan strained to speak, his husky words weak and staggering: “What are you saying?” “Your search for the sacred gift has already begun . . .

There was old sex in the room and loneliness, and expectation, of something without a shape or name. I remember that yearning, and was never the same as the hands that were on us there and then, in the small of the back, or out back, in the parking lot, or in the television room with the sound turned down and only the pictures flickering over lifting flesh. We yearned for the future How did we learn it, that talent for insatiability?

The way a love letter longs to be read I long for you. The way the poor Kane longs for his sled I long for you. The way the moon longs for the dark of night I long for you. The way a nestling bird longs for flight I long for you. I am blessed and I am cursed. I have waited for so long. I need you to come to me. And remind me of who I was once.

the sapphire depth of my own love...startles and warms and wounds my soul.

The thing you are passionate about is not random; it stems from an inner yearning. Don’t ignore it or allow others to talk you out of it. Go get it!

The two of them smelled strange, like hope, like something fucking with the fine edges of my memory, something I was hungry for but couldn’t remember the taste of.

The years seemed to stretch before her like the land; spring, summer, autumn, winter, spring; always the same patient fields, the patient little trees, the patient lives; always the same yearning, the same pulling at the chain—until the instinct to live had torn itself and bled and weakened for the last time, until the chain secured a dead woman, who might cautiously be released.

WANT I want to hold Shelley with the force of an eagle taming the wind within its wings. I want to grasp him unfailingly, like a gentle moth dancing with flame. I want to have strength enough to beat off the beasts that dwell within his heart. I want to believe in impossible promises and shift the world so they can be kept. I want to be more than a girl selling books in a bankrupt shop.

this heart yearns... for the salt of unsmelt air unswept thunderstorms... unknown adventures.

This is, to me, the loveliest and saddest landscape in the world. It is the same as that on the preceding page, but I have drawn it again to impress it on your memory. It is here that the little prince appeared on Earth, and disappeared. Look at it carefully so that you will be sure to recognise it in case you travel some day to the African desert. And, if you should come upon this spot, please do not hurry on. Wait for a time, exactly under the star. Then, if a little man appears who laughs, who has golden hair and who refuses to answer questions, you will know who he is. If this should happen, please comfort me. Send me word that he has come back.

They no longer wanted to entice anyone; all they wanted was to catch a glimpse for as long as possible of the reflected glory in the great eyes of Odysseus