I've never been in love. I've dreamt of it day and night, but my heart is like a fine piano no one can play because the key is lost.
Nothing reopens the springs of love so fully as absence, and no absence so thoroughly as that which must needs be endless.
Why is it that words like these seem dull and cold? Is it because there is no word tender enough to be your name?
It was for the sake of what had been, rather than what was.
It gets lonely. I miss my family on stage. This might change one day. I'm certainly not going to say I'm not going to work with them again.
I just miss being around my mother. I'm her boy. I'm a momma's boy.
You don't want to live your life and then meet someone. You want to share your life with someone. That's what I'm missing right now.
She said the reason that love is so painful is that it always amounts to two people wanting more than two people can give.
L'absence diminue les mediocres passions, et augmente les grandes,comme le vent eteint les bougies, et allume le feu. Absence diminishes commonplace passions, and increases great ones, as wind extinguishes candles and kindles fire.
I remember 'Hannah Montana' came out, and I was so depressed, I started crying because I was like, 'I want to do that.'
I wish I had a great relationship with my mother.
He missed her like crazycakes.
I’d wanted emotion but couldn’t find it here, so I settled for motion.
When the night falls, my lonely heart calls.
When I was younger, I used to vacillate between thinking love was this great and glorious mystery and thinking it was just something a bunch of Hollywood move producers made up to sell more tickets in the Depression, when Dish Night kind of played out." Eddie laughed. Now I think that all of us are born with a hole in our hearts, and we go around looking for the person who can fill it. You...Eddie, you fill me up.
La parole humaine est comme un chaudron fe" le o u' nous battons des me lodies a' faire danser les ours, quand on voudrait attendrir les e toiles. Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we beat out tunes for bears to dance to, when all the time we are longing to move the stars to pity.
Love is an irreresisistible desire to be irresistibily desired.
He turns and walks away, moving so quickly that the candle flames shiver with the motion of the air. “I miss you,” Isobel says as he leaves, but the sentiment is crushed by the clatter of the beaded curtain falling closed behind him.
We're hardwired for connection. There's no arguing with the bioscience. But we can want it so badly we're trying to hot-wire it.
Did I feel a physical desire for him? I did. Was I moved by a passion of my body? I was. Have I experienced the most violent form of sensual pleasure? I have.
How much I desire! Inside my little satchel, the moon, and flowers
Oh longing for places that were not Cherished enough in that fleeting hour How I long to make good from afar The forgotten gesture, the additional act.
I became quietly seized with that nostalgia that overcomes you when you have reached the middle of your life and your father has recently died and it dawns on you that when he went he took some of you with him.
Why do you think you are missing something you never had?
I miss Denny Crane.
