Longing Quotes
Kavita’s arms are still outstretched, but they hold nothing. After the metal gate clangs shut behind them, Kavita can still hear Usha’s piercing wail echoing inside.
I felt bad for trying to live a happy, full life, while my heart was buried in a dead man’s chest.
I was so incredibly nostalgic for a life I knew I'd never, ever have again.
She brushed the tears from their faces and sang them a melancholy lullaby. Her obvious devotion to her daughters pulled at my heart strings, making my chest ache with longing for my own mother.
...that breath of relief that there is someone in the world, finally, who understands what hurts you.
As much as I cared about him, I wasn’t a slave to fate. I could choose to ignore my feelings, strong as they were. It would be painful, but no more so than letting myself pine for my friend.
I incessantly look for water in wells dug by men, and I have drunk enough sand to prove it.
If we could imagine, while we live them, to what mundane moments nostalgia manages to stick itself...
We can only come to terms with our own place in the world by compassionately commiserating with the pang of longing that our brethren experience.
We come to this world with an abundance of hope, a deep desire to love, and a longing to belong.
If I was ever glad to have gone, I was never glad to go.
She'd been in love with the man, and love is a scary thing. If not reciprocated, it can turn a person into a monster.
She spent the first half of her life alone. For the second half, she longed for a man of dignity to rescue her.
She didn’t care if the world thought she was pretty. All she wanted was that special someone to reach beyond the surface and discover her heart.
I am isolated. I sit in a glass ball, I see people through a glass wall. I scream, but they do not hear me.- Ellen West
Nos·tal·gia (n):A feeling that lingers long after the taste is gone.
She would never forget how his soul was lonely as the moon they’d met under, and how, for several brief moments, she’d been able to chase the loneliness away.
But it seems that I can tackle the most esoteric of recipes, the most elusive puff pastry, as long as I do not have to count the empty layers of loneliness building up inside.
I didn't feel lonely until there was something to yearn for. Loneliness and longing are two sides of the same coin.
Like billowing clouds, Like the incessant gurgle of the brook, The longing of the spirit can never be stilled.
We long for things that harm us and run from the things that grow and heal us. We think good is bad and bad is good.
One's longing is not so much there for sense-gratification, profit and self-preservation, instead one's karma is there for no other purpose than inquiring after the Absolute Truth.
Do you really know yourself so well or are you making it up?' she asks. Some things I concoct, some I glean from my senses, most I thirst for.
Sufre mas el que espera siempreque aquel que nunca espero a nadie?Does he who is always waiting suffer more than he who’s never waited for anyone?
With God, being lost is nothing more than an idea that never has and never will be anything more than an idea.
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.
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.
Within my words there is a longingTo be written, through the senses to travel across the mindTo be perceived by your heart, to rest in your deep.
I wish I knew how to get you back. And apparently fate won't let me give up"From Central Park Song: a Screenplay
The ghosts that exert the most power in people’s lives-at least, the people I know–tend to be of their own making, and consist of equal parts regret and old fears and just plain missing somebody.
On the inside, the copycats of the ruffians are more delicate than the copycats of prudes.
The sharp light of the stars and moon sliced away her misconceptions and pared down their layers until the feelings that had always existed between them lay bare.
Memories lurk like dustballs in the backs of drawers. The stereo is a special model that plays only music fraught with poignant associations.
Better to leave with good memories than have the last ones be the embarrassing, smoking ruin of what once had been a fantastic friendship.
Her tears still lay, unattended, on my bosom...I wouldn't wipe them, for she might stop paying me visits.
To be human, that's what most of us long for. It is the human which has become myth to us.