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Quote by Samih Sabbagh al-Buqai'ah

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Samih Sabbagh al-Buqai'ah

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“No escogemos nuestros corazones, ni mucho menos la mochila que se cierne sobre nuestras espaldas. No siempre decidimos ser conscientemente crueles o insensibles. A veces es un mero acto de supervivencia. Pero, en ocasiones, existe una fortaleza que sólo puede surgir de la necesidad, de haber experimentado circunstancias adversas. Federico comprendía que había sido un privilegiado y que todo lo que le afectaba eran pequeñeces ante los ojos de los demás. No había vivido en pobreza, en guerras, en abandono o negligencia. Sin embargo, tenía un dolor profundo que nunca desaparecía y que constituía un anhelo insaciable que había signado su vida. Y era la necesidad de amor.”

LongingLonging Fir
Book:Melodías Sepultadas
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“The following morning, Wilhelmina awoke to a lone lily pad moaning after escaping from an exquisite Monet painting piece that was hosting some shades of watercolor chips that were a century and half-oldish that subbed as a dish for artsy gourmet-eating tadpoles that had both a yearning for the foggy past and longing for their froggy future.”

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Book:The Satyrist...And Other Scintillating Treats
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“Hunger is physical of course, but it is many other things besides. A longing to take up space, to want, to need. To fall in love. To establish boundaries. To say “not good enough” or “not this” or “not now.” To change directions. To start again. To fail. To forgive. To be uncompromisingly human.”

LongingHunger
Book:Places I Stopped on the Way Home: A Memoir of Chaos and Grace
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“Sea Longing" A thousand miles beyond this sun-steeped wall Somewhere the waves creep cool along the sand, The ebbing tide forsakes the listless land With the old murmur, long and musical; The windy waves mount up and curve and fall, And round the rocks the foam blows up like snow,-- Tho' I am inland far, I hear and know, For I was born the sea's eternal thrall. I would that I were there and over me The cold insistence of the tide would roll, Quenching this burning thing men call the soul,-- Then with the ebbing I should drift and be Less than the smallest shell along the shoal, Less than the sea-gulls calling to the sea.”

PoetryNatureSeaLonging
Author:Sara Teasdale
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