825 Quotes About Longing

I just want to hear that single phrase. It’s just one phrase I want to hear. Why can’t anyone say it to me? He knew he was being selfish but he just couldn’t live without the desire to hear that phrase. He finally realised that was what he had desired for all this time as if the falling snow had opened a door sealed deep within his heart. He wanted to hear the very words that girl had said to him that day. “I’m sure you will be all right, Takaki-kun.

She closed the magazine and stared at the girl on the cover, a girl who had never been pregnant, never had a social worker or a filling. Yvonne stroked the water-wavy cover. I could tell, she wanted to know what that girl knew, feel how she felt, to be so beautiful, wanted, confident. Like people touching the statue of a saint.

I think all cultural epochs are characterised by these two modes, the existence of a future and the absence of a future, and the strange thing is that culture seems to strive towards the absence of future, as if that were the highest form, when all longings have been fulfilled, but it isn't, because then longing turns towards the past, or towards something else that has been lost or was never accomplished.

What separates self from the flutterof longing?

What have we all, wewho have nothing left but longing to be freeof our lashed satiety.

I will push the swing for youAnd smile at how high that last one wasAnd you will forget I'm even there too,Giggling in eternity the way a child does.For a few seconds, I sometimes would like the chanceTo swing this swing and kiss the skyBut you love too much this current danceSo I'll keep pushing your swing and tell myself, "Goodbye

Words are abstraction, break off from the green; words are patterns in the way fences and trenches are. Words hurt. I can hide in words so long as I scatter them through my body; to read your letters is to gather flowers from within myself, pluck a blossom here, a fern there, arrange and rearrange them in ways to suit a sunny room.

Kev loved her. Not in the way that novelists and poets described. Nothing so tame. He loved her beyond earth, heaven, or hell. Every moment out of her company was agony; every moment with her was the only peace he had ever known. Every touch of her hands left an imprint that ate down to his soul. He would have killed himself before admitting it to anyone. The truth was buried deep in his heart.

For years I'd been an expert at longing, an expert at loving from the state of not-quite-having, an expert at daydreaming and sinking back into the plush furniture of cinematic imagining.