I can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the hunger of my heart, I am trying to bribe you with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat.
The guest of our soul knows our misery; He comes to find an empty tent within us - that is all He asks.
A heart-felt prayer is not recitation with the lips. It is a yearning from within which expresses itself in every word, every act, nay every thought of people.
That powers my desire to write: the sense of how quickly everything on the surface of life can be cut away and you can suddenly be inside the most inner part of the most inner life of a person. What does it feel like there, and what are the regrets and sensations and longings, and what is the music of it?
There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled. There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled. You feel it, don't you?
My soul travels on the smell of perfume like the souls of other men on music.
What hurts the soul? To live without tasting the water of its own essence.
The perfect joys of heaven do not satisfy the cravings of nature.
For singing till his heaven fills, 'Tis love of earth that he instills, And ever winging up and up, Our valley is his golden cup, And he the wine which over flows To lift us with him as he goes.
My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder It's never over, all my riches for her smiles when I slept so soft against her... It's never over, All my blood for the sweetness of her laughter... It's never over, She's a tear that hangs inside my soul forever.
In the depth of my soul there is A wordless song - a song that lives In the seed of my heart. It refuses to melt with ink on Parchment; it engulfs my affection In a transparent cloak and flows, But not upon my lips.
The reason our souls hunger so is that the life we could be living so far exceeds our strangest dreams.
Love is that orbit of the restless soulWhose circle grazes the confines of space,Bounding within the limits of its raceUtmost extremes.
In the love of narrow souls I make many short voyages but in vain-I find no sea room-but in great souls I sail before the wind without a watch, and never reach the shore.
O! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought, Lost to the noble sallies of the soul! Who think it solitude to be alone.
If you haven't had at least a slight poetic crack in the heart, you have been cheated by nature.
I have little left in myself -- I must have you. The world may laugh -- may call me absurd, selfish -- but it does not signify. My very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame.
Vague a l'ame - melancholy yearning for the end of the world.
