142 Longing Quotes

What shall I do with all the days and hours That must be counted ere I see thy face? How shall I charm the interval that lowers Between this time and that sweet time of grace?

May I kiss you then? On this miserable paper? I might as well open the window and kiss the night air.

Things always seem fairer when we look back at them, and it is out of that inaccessible tower of the past that Longing leans and beckons.

The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow.

I've never felt like I was born with a silver spoon at all, although I've felt like howling at the moon a lot of times!

Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again.

A mighty pain to love it is, And 't is a pain that pain to miss; But of all pains, the greatest pain It is to love, but love in vain.

Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea.

My love is of a birth as rare As 'tis for object strange and high; It was begotten by Despair Upon Impossibility.

Come back, true love! Sweet youth, return!- But time goes on, and will, unheeding, Though hands will reach, and eyes will yearn, And the wild days set true hearts bleeding.

There's the wind on the heath, brother; if I could only feel that, I would gladly live for ever.

In secret we met In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? With silence and tears.

I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright.

I've always been after the trappings of great luxury. But all I've got hold of are the trappings of great poverty. I've got hold of the wrong load of trappings, and a rotten load they are too, ones I could have very well done without.

'We are Fragile, everyone. We all long for something more. Things are said and things are done and the pieces hit the floor. See how fragile.'

Remember only this of our hopeless love That never till Time is done Will the fire of the heart and the fire of the mind be one.

Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me! I want a ship that's westward bound to plow the rolling sea, To the blessed Land of Room Enough beyond the ocean bars, Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.

But oh! as to embrace me she inclined, I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night.

There is joy over disappointment And delight in hopes that were vain. Each poet is glad there was no cure To stop his lonely pain. For nothing keeps a poet In his high singing mood Like unappeasable hunger For unattainable food.

Touch me, hold me. How my open arms ache! Try to fall for me.

How could she feel nostalgia when he was right in front of her? How can you suffer from the absence of a person who is present?

What are the stars but points in the body of God where we insert the healing needles of our terror and longing?

So hard to find my way, Now that I'm all on my own. I saw you just the other day, My how you have grown, Cast my memory back there, Lord Sometimes I'm overcome thinking 'bout Making love in the green grass Behind the stadium with you My brown eyed girl You my brown eyed girl.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear the lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray, I hear it in the deep heart's core.

Absence from whom we love is worse than death, And frustrate hope severer than despair.

If I were a painter I would paint my reverie If that's the only way for you to be with me

. . . I'll raise my arms and give you my chest and throat and wait, and I've been so old for so long for you, for you, I want it fast and right through me- Oh do it, do it you motherfuckers do it you fuckers finally, finally, finally.

Death will come when thou art dead, Soon, too soon - Sleep will come when thou art fled; Of neither would I ask the boon I ask of thee, beloved Night - Swift be thine approaching flight, Come soon, soon!

Rarely, rarely, comest thou, Spirit of Delight! Wherefore hast thou left me now Many a day and night? Many a weary night and day 'Tis since thou are fled away.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here, My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer; A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.

I am restless. I am athirst for faraway things. My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance. O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute! I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in this spot evermore. ~ 5

Elvis are you out there somewhere Looking like a happy man? In the snow with Rosebud And King of the Mountain.

I charm in vain; for never again, All keenly as my glance I bend, Will Memory, goddess coy, Embody for my joy Departed days, nor let me gaze On thee, my fairy friend!

I long so much to see you! Should anything hinder our meeting upon earth, think of your daughter, as one who always wished, at least, to do her duty, and who always cherished you, according as her mind opened to discover excellence. ... I hope we shall be able to pass some time together yet, in this world. But, if God decrees otherwise, - here and HEREAFTER, - my dearest mother, 'Your loving child, MARGARET.'

Even in that pale light I could see that she was more beautiful than ever, the black shadow of her hair framing a face I had seen every night in the misery of sleep for so long. Those deep brown eyes still had that hungry look when they watched mine and the lush fullness of her mouth glistened with a damp warmth of invitation.

They were gnawed within by the grief of knowing that this greatest gift of all gifts was forever out of their reach.

Why she had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday.

If you hadn't gone tomorrow, You could have stayed on 'til June. ~ 'June'

Oh Billie I want you so, I'm trying to meet you. Too many things they don't know, too many repeatings, of beatings. ~ 'Closet'

I don't miss you, still I will take a car to be with you. I don't know you, of course you think you know me. ~ 'Long Way Down'

New York City's very pretty in the night-time But oh, don't you miss Soho?

Wanting contact I'm wanting contact I'm wanting contact with you.

Love I get so lost, sometimes days pass and this emptiness fills my heart when I want to run away I drive off in my car but whichever way I go I come back to the place you are.

If to be absent were to be Away from thee; Or that when I am gone, You and I were alone; Then, my Lucasta, might I crave Pity from blust'ring wind, or swallowing wave.

I am a woman-therefore I may not Call to him, cry to him, Fly to him, Bid him delay not.

'by the bank of Kowthar (A stream in heaven), with lips parched by thirst, By the side of the Beloved (God) with heart afire by longing!'

Star of resplendent front! Thy glorious eye Shines on me still from out yon clouded sky.

Sadly I roam, Still longing for de old plantation, And for de old folks at home.

For just a minute there I was dreaming, for just a minute is was all so real. For just a minute she was standing there with me.

She called me Hen Fap Thomas, said that I was something that she needed to have!

'I gotta find away to get my family back.'

Society friendship and love Divinely bestow'd upon man, O had I the wings of a dove How soon I would taste you again!

Although I enter not, Yet round about the spot Ofttimes I hover; And near the sacred gate With longing eyes I wait, Expectant of her.

Duluth! The word fell upon my ear with a peculiar and indescribable charm, like the gentle murmur of a low fountain stealing forth in the midst of roses, or the soft sweet accent of an angel's whisper in the bright, joyous dream of sleeping innocence. 'T was the name for which my soul had panted for years, as the hart panteth for the water-brooks.

My care is like my shadow in the sun, Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it, Stands and lies by me, doth what I have done. His too familiar care doth make me rue it. No means I find to rid him from my breast, Till by the end of things it be supprest. Some gentler passion slide into my mind, For I am soft and made of melting snow; Or be more cruel, love, and so be kind. Let me or float or sink, be high or low. Or let me live with some more sweet content, Or die and so forget what love ere meant.

Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar. Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell? Whom do you lead on Rapture's roadway, far, Before you agonise them in farewell?

But oh, how slowly minutes roll When absent from her eyes, That feed my love, which is my soul: It languishes and dies.

Give me a Leonard Cohen afterworld So I can sigh eternally.

I still dream about Kurt. Every time I see him in a dream, I'll be amazed and I get this feeling that everyone else thinks he's dead. It always feels totally real, probably because I'm a very vivid dreamer. But, in my dreams, Kurt's usually been hiding - we'll get together and I'll end up asking him, 'God, where have you been?'

Reveal Thy presence, And let the vision and Thy beauty kill me, Behold the malady Of love is incurable Except in Thy presence and before Thy face. ~ 11

The thundering waves are calling me home to you The pounding sea is calling me home to you

A clouded dream on an earthly night Hangs upon the crescent moon A voiceless song in an ageless light Sings at the coming dawn Birds in flight are calling there Where the heart moves the stones It's there that my heart is calling All for the love of you

motherland cradle me close my eyes lullaby me to sleep keep me safe lie with me stay beside me don't go, don't you go

'Old man, look at my life, 24 and there's so much more, live alone in a paradise that makes me think of 2.' Old Man

Lonestar Where are you out tonight? This feeling I'm trying to fight It's dark and I think that I would give anything For you to shine down on me

Show him who I am, help him to see that even though I am no beauty, I'm still a woman, I still long to love, to be loved, to make a family with a man who is bound into my heart

Savanna had said, 'Come back soon. Come back while you're still young enough to want me. For I'm going to be young forever' I wasn't young anymore, not by any definition of the word. But I wanted her. Perhaps I only wanted the innocence of the children we had been, making love beside the river, oblivious to the pain that could and surely would come to them. Still, I wanted her more than I wanted anyone else in the world, not because my passion was so overwhelming, but because all the other things I wanted were either painfully accomplished or so hopeless that I had given up on them. Only she was left

The one thing I can't have in all this world is [her]. But she's what I've wanted, all day, all month, all these years

Once upon a time... When the cold wind that blows, when the cold wind that blows in my heart, was a summer breeze and she would meet me in Chinatown, for opium and a bumming and she always brought me flowers but I spared you those old bollards Or songs that I couldn't play But every giro day she'd dress me like a lady boy And take me out of the way Don't let the horse chase the new deal away, no If we make love in the morning I see your eyes look like two pins in your head

It was wonderful to find America, but it would have been more wonderful to miss it.

Why thus longing, thus forever sighing For the far-off, unattained, and dim, While the beautiful all round thee lying Offers up its low, perpetual hymn?

In the first days Of my distracting grief, I found myself As women wish to be who love their lords.

I wish I could see how the ocean is lashing The foam of its billows to whirlwinds of spray; I wish I could see how its proud waves are dashing, And hear the wild roar of their thunder today!

But then to wake and find it flown, The dream of happiness destroyed, To find myself unloved, alone, What tongue can speak the dreary void? A heart whence warm affections flow, Creator, thou hast given to me, And am I only thus to know How sweet the joys of love would be?

'No, no no,' she said. 'You don't understand. Not that kind of longing. It was when I was happiest that I longed most. It was on happy days when we were up there on the hills, the three of us, with the wind and the sunshine : where you couldn't see Glome or the palace. Do you remember? The colour and the smell, and looking at the Grey Mountain in the distance? And because it was so beautiful, it set me longing, always longing. Somewhere else there must be more of it. Everything seemed to be saying, Psyche come! But I couldn't (not yet) come and I didn't know where I was to come to. It almost hurt me. I felt like a bird in a cage when the other birds of its kind are flying home.

The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing - to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from - my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back.

I got a hunger and I can't seem to get full I need some meaning I can memorize The kind I have always seems to slip my mind.

'I need so.. to be in your arms, see your smile, hold you close'

Once she kissed me with a jest, Once with a tear - O where's the heart was in my breast, And the ring was in my ear?

Layla, you got me on my knees. Layla, I'm begging, darling please. Layla, darling won't you ease my worried mind.

Verde que te quiero verde. Verde viento. Verdes ramas. El barco sobre la mar y el caballo en la montana.

I really want to see you, Really want to be with you, Really want to see you lord, But it takes so long, my lord.

Et quant ma maladie Garie Ne sera nullement Sans vous, douce anemie, Qui lie Estes de mon tourment, A jointes mains deprie Vo cuer, puis qu'il m'oublie, Que temprement m'ocie, Car trop langui longuement. Douce dame jolie, Pour dieu ne penses mie Que nulle ait signourie Seur moy fors vous seulement.

They tell me every day is there Not more nor less than Sunday gay; In shining robes and garments fair The people walk upon their way. One gazes there on castle walls As grand as those of Babylon, A bishop and two generals! What joy to be in Carcassonne! Ah! might I but see Carcassonne!

Caraf trachas Lloegyr, lleudir goglet hediw, ac yn amgant y Lliw lliwas callet. Caraf am rotes rybuched met, myn y dyhaet my meith gwyrysset. Carafy theilu ae thew anhet yndi ac wrth uot y ri rwyfaw dyhet.

Karafy gaer wennglaer o du gwennylan; myn yd gar gwyldec gweled gwylan yd garwny uyned, kenym cared yn rwy. Ry eitun ouwy y ar veingann y edrtch uy chwaer chwerthin egwan, y adrawt caru, can doeth yn rann.

'It is hard to spend one's fifteenth Easter away from his native country. If throughout the year of an exile's life one constantly feeds on longing as if it were his daily bread, on solemn holidays this longing becomes doubled and I can think of nothing but my country.[...] I tell you that when my native land loomed closer to me than my old age, I did not care about it [...]; today, when I see my old age closer to me than my country, I feel so much the worse for it.'

Charlotte once ran away from me, outside the studio, and I grabbed her dress to stop her, to keep her near me. A yellow cotton dress I loved because it was too long for her.

I long to talk with some old lover's ghost, Who died before the god of love was born.

'Last night I saw you in my dreams/Now I can't wait to go to sleep/And this life is all a dream/So my real life starts when I go to sleep.'

My waking thoughts are all of thee. Your portrait and the remembrance of last night's delirium have robbed my senses of repose. Sweet and incomparable Josephine, what an extraordinary influence you have over my heart. Are you vexed? do I see you sad? are you ill at ease? My soul is broken with grief, and there is no rest for your lover.

To men of other minds my fancy flies, Embosomed in the deep where Holland lies. Methinks her patient sons before me stand, Where the broad ocean leans against the land.