Quotes & Sayings About Missing Your Lover

Here's a secret: Everyone, if they live long enough, will lose their way at some point. You will lose your way, you will wake up one morning and find yourself lost. This is a hard, simple truth. If it hasn't happened to you yet, consider yourself lucky. When it does, when one day you look around and nothing is recognizable, when you find yourself alone in a dark wood having lost the way, you may find it easier to blame it on someone else
an errant lover, a missing father, a bad childhood
or it may be easier to blame the map you were given
folded too many times, out-of-date, tiny print
but mostly, if you are honest, you will only be able to blame yourself.
One day I'll tell my daughter a story about a dark time, the dark days before she was born, and how her coming was a ray of light. We got lost for a while, the story will begin, but then we found our way. — Nick Flynn

Well, you only need the light when it's burning low. Only miss the sun when it starts to snow. Only know your lover when you let her go. Only know you've been high when you're feeling low, only hate the road when you're missing home. Only know your lover when you let her go. — Passenger

Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time. — Haruki Murakami

As hot as the blood is the missing of her. God, how I want her little hand in mine. Only another parent can fully get this. It's completely different from separation from a parent or lover. The clay in me wants to touch that part of myself - my blood flowing through another heart - touch the memories of her birth. The first time I held her, she was the length of my forearm. — William Powers

Unbeknown to us, some of the people who we hope are missing us wherever they are do miss us; some miss someone else; and some are dead. — Mokokoma Mokhonoana

A lover exists only in fragments, a dozen or so if the romance is new, a thousand if we're married to him, and out of those fragments our heart constructs an entire person. What we each create, since whatever is missing is filled by our imagination, is the person we wish him to be. The less we know him, of course, the more we love him. And that's why we always remember that first rapturous night when he was a stranger, and why this rapture returns only when he's dead. — Andrew Sean Greer

I began missing you even before we met. — Kamand Kojouri

I am sure we each loved a different man. Because a lover exists only in fragments, a dozen or so if the romance is new, a thousand if we've married him, and out of those fragments our heart constructs an entire person. What we each create, since whatever is missing is filled in by our imagination, is the person we wish him to be. The less we know him, of course, the more we love him. And that's why we always remember that first rapturous night when he was a stranger, and why this rapture returns only when he is dead. — Andrew Sean Greer

Distance unites missing beats of two hearts in love — Munia Khan

Bountiful is your life, full and complete. Or so you think, until someone comes along and makes you realize what you have been missing all this time. Like a mirror that reflects what is absent rather than present, he shows you the void in your soul - the void you have resisted seeing. That person can be a lover, a friend, or a spiritual master. Sometimes it can be a child to look after. What matters is to find the soul that will complete
yours. All the prophets have given the same advice: Find the one who will be your mirror!. — Elif Shafak

I'm passing the bar
Where you first got in my car
I'm not ashamed to admit
That it's you I won't forget

I saved your cigarettes and
Bad habits I regret
But the hours flew by like clouds
Whenever I had you around

Parachute lover
Take me away
From the plane that went crashing
And the earth that's in flames

Saving you is saving me
High above the redwood trees
But down below I see shadows
And parachute debris

We're drifting like children
Along for the ride
Each time we find love
Another parachute arrives

Our madness will burn
As bright as the sun
And I'll keep finding lovers
But you were the one — Crystal Woods

Why, after all, must everyone like music? That they are missing something is just the lover's opinion. — Ned Rorem

I am sure we both loved a different man. Because a lover exists only in fragments, a dozen or so if the romance is new, a thousand if we've married him, and out of those fragments our heart constructs an entire person. What we each create, since whatever is missing is filled in by our imagination, is the person we wish him to be. The less we know him, of course, the more we love him. — Andrew Sean Greer

A lover of comfort might shrug after looking at the whole apparent jumble of furniture, old paintings, statues with missing arms and legs, engravings that were sometimes bad but precious in memory, and bric-a-brac. Only the eye of a connoisseur would have blazed with eagerness at the sight of this painting or that, some book yellowed with age, a piece of old porcelain, or stones and coins.
But the furniture and paintings of different ages, the bric-a-brac that meant nothing to anyone but had been marked for them both by a happy hour or memorable moment, and the ocean of books and sheet music breathed a warm life that oddly stimulated the mind and aesthetic sense. Present everywhere was vigilant thought. The beauty of human effort shone here, just as the eternal beauty of nature shone all around.
pp. 492-493 — Ivan Goncharov

My arm clutched one of my other pillows to my chest like a child with a teddy bear, a soul pressing its missing lover to her bosom. — Alyse M. Gardner

It was hard to explain. But what was between them went further than a mating ceremony or a back carving or a witnessed exchange of commitment. He couldn't put his finger on the why of it ... but she was his missing puzzle piece, the twelfth in his dozen, the first and last pages of his book. — J.R. Ward

Why did you start looking for a Dom?" "A vanilla lover couldn't give me the extremes." "Yet no Dom has won you. Why?" "I haven't found a Dom who will give me the extremes, Sir." "I want the truth, Caro." "You're right. I've found some extremes, but not the right kind. Not the right Dom." "Why, Caro? What was missing in them?" "Judgment, honor, gallantry. There's a huge difference between a consensual sadist in the BDSM lifestyle, and a complete sadist. To me, a male who just likes to hurt things and has no compassion is a complete sadist, and less than a man. A male who consensually torments a woman to heighten lovemaking and bring them pleasure - a man who cares for her - is a true Dom, and the most desirable kind of man. — Marilyn Lakewood

And she'd also found Logan again. Now he was her ... what? New-old boyfriend? Lover? Skype buddy? Pen pal with benefits? Whatever his title, his e-mails filled her inbox. Sometimes he sent five a day, short and quipping. Other times he sent longer, more serious ones. She kept her tone light when she replied. That'd always been her MO - a joke, a jab. A way to deflect from what she was really feeling. A way to keep the nonstop ache of missing him from becoming too painful to survive. And honestly, what was there to say that would come close to what she felt? The moments they'd spent together before he'd shipped out on his latest naval tour had been the most peaceful she could remember - even with her anxiety about her dad. It'd been the first time she'd felt complete in a long time. And then, just like that, he was gone again. — Rob Thomas

We'll meet again, but you're a lifetime away, and I need you now. — Karen Quan