Being wistful means you don’t have a care in the world. What a carefree feeling to be wistful. You feel wistful when you are eating an ice cream cone, riding roller coasters with your friends, or just feeling totally peaceful.
Holly
The willow fronds dip thirstily in the diminished stream as if searching for a truth that rapidly evaporates.
Bunty
A beard of white, the musings of an ancient man who sits in his library contemplating the whimsical aspects of his life, delving into the dark ironies with a bittersweet smile to end his aging thoughts. His ruin serves him well in solitude.
AyeAye12
I am wistful when I think of all the hours I could use to build better skills in the area of technology. I am wistful that there are not more hours in the day to spend exploring the many resources I could share with my students.
Sherry
There was a woman. She lived in a mansion, on top of a hill. The weather was glorious. As always. Despite everything, she yearned for something more than the existence she had been ‘gifted’ with. She wanted to know what was beyond the hills. All her life she had been confined here, with nothing to give her any notion of the outside world. A wistful woman wishing her days away.
Max Heathcote
Jenny looked down the cobble-lined streets of her former hometown. The smell of fresh baked bread permeated the air. Jenny breathed in deep and turned away from it. This was to be the last time she would see her child hood home. She looked wistfully up at the stone facade of her parent’s house.
Jessica Oliver
Well there it is, like the wind through both windows, in and out. It’s nice.
Happiness, it’s carried lightly and to everybody.
Ali S
There was one single thing she found wistfulness for. A smoothed and polished stone that her older brother had given her before leaving for war. It had been engraved with the words, ‘I’ll return for you’ and she believed in it every day until he died. After the funeral, she couldn’t find the stone. It had disappeared along with her brother. Her hope was gone, also.
It was just another broken promise.
What can I say? I did it on a whim. I thought it was a good idea at the time, but somehow it did not come to fruition. I wonder sometimes what I would be like if I had any common sense.
“I already did this one yesterday – this is what happens when you do prompts after midnight,” she said wistfully, but started typing anyway.
It’s been a wistful sort of day. I wish I’d been quicker yesterday.
Penny
Wistfully walking down the sidewalk on the foggy, dreary afternoon, felt like I was going to simply drop down dead. How could this have happened to me? There was no way no mistake had been made.
I am wistful today thinking of times past. I am wistfully wishing for a brighter future and a more glorious past. there are butterflies flitting outside my window. starry nights and fire flies. late nights naked in the cool breeze welcome after a hot summer’s day. two bodies lying on a bench warm and soft..
Theresa
so bin ich denn doch nicht einkaufen gegangen und hab das angebot kirschen fuer 2,9o€ das kilo verpasst. schade eigentlich, ich weiss naemlich, dass die kirschen nicht billiger werden als vier euro und das geld fuer die kirschen vom wochenmarkt zu acht euro hab ich wirklich nich.
wise about life. ahhhhmm. this is interesting as well. wist is wisdom. like noother i’ve seen. this is something new as well. all in 60 seconds of time
f
It’s tough to be wistful when the immediate hits you with all force. You shudder, you shrivel, you unravel. You fall. You brush off. You rise again.And so is life.
Shom
He look out the window at the soggy drizzle lazily falling from the the heaven above the ghostly white clouds. He wondered if he was their, above the haze, looking down at this dank world. God, he missed him. The way he felt. The way he smelt. Everything about him made him ache with longing. Out in the failing mist he could see him. Just out of reach, by the old oak tree where they had first met. He remembered that day. Like another he had taken a stroll after lunch… ‘No, I can’t do this to my self, I must forget’ he pleaded with his memory. He looked out the window at the soggy drizzle lazily falling from the resting place of his past lover. A rain drop falling from his losing eye.
I was sitting at my desk at work. Trying to type this message when a wistful thought occured to me of beaches and ocean breezes. Relaxing in the sun and wishing I was there instead of here. If only work at home was everyday.
She is thinking wistfully of her youth and she struggles with the walker she is now ushing. Where did all the time go she sighs a heavy sigh and pushes on. Lonely and thinking of her children and how she doesn’t see them as much as she would like. She understand sof coause they are busy they have lives and children of their own. If she could change one thing it would be more time spent with them and less time worrying about work or cleaning or anything else that seemed so important at the time. It is the making of the memories she misses the most.
Wistful for you, I am
Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?
You’re standing in front of me.
Saying these things.
All of which you know I’ve wanted to hear.
Don’t toy with me now.
There’s too much at stake.
Love you forever, like you for always
Love me back.
Nicola
She remembers the time she woke up crying from a dream about her childhood. She was six years old again, when work meant running up the slide and love meant smiles and blinks and friendship meant playdates and popsicles, and that was all.
In that melancholy surrounding, I sat there thinking with a wistful gaze, regretting my agenda, wondering why I decided to leave home on such a rainy, dark day.
I already had this word so I eventually know what it means. I think it’s a great feeling because pain is creative, being wistful can lead to be creative, sadness is blessed because it can lead to be creative, my own sadnss I don’t want to escape
Margot
that place always made me feel wistful. the past came back and I was still in a time of promise. the wreckage of my life lay ahead. All shall have prizes he said. The lie haunted me through the years of failure and doubt.
My world fell apart.
david lloyd
I’m french and I wanted to try this website but the funny thing is that I don’t know what wistful means, like not at all. It kind of makes me think of the word wrist and so I just imagine two wrists drawn on a blank paper and there are two red/pink bruises on each one.
Margot
I wish, for just a moment, to be nine again, and for this summer to be again an endless stretch of possibilities. I wish for my future back — for that belief that I could be anyone or anything I wanted to be. I wish … I wish to be young again, and to know all things are possible. Long before this closing of views and hardening of heart began.
terradi
i had this wistful of habits that help me realize that whatever i am doing is not worth it and will have change me up a notch.
Being wistful means you don’t have a care in the world. What a carefree feeling to be wistful. You feel wistful when you are eating an ice cream cone, riding roller coasters with your friends, or just feeling totally peaceful.
The willow fronds dip thirstily in the diminished stream as if searching for a truth that rapidly evaporates.
A beard of white, the musings of an ancient man who sits in his library contemplating the whimsical aspects of his life, delving into the dark ironies with a bittersweet smile to end his aging thoughts. His ruin serves him well in solitude.
I am wistful when I think of all the hours I could use to build better skills in the area of technology. I am wistful that there are not more hours in the day to spend exploring the many resources I could share with my students.
There was a woman. She lived in a mansion, on top of a hill. The weather was glorious. As always. Despite everything, she yearned for something more than the existence she had been ‘gifted’ with. She wanted to know what was beyond the hills. All her life she had been confined here, with nothing to give her any notion of the outside world. A wistful woman wishing her days away.
Jenny looked down the cobble-lined streets of her former hometown. The smell of fresh baked bread permeated the air. Jenny breathed in deep and turned away from it. This was to be the last time she would see her child hood home. She looked wistfully up at the stone facade of her parent’s house.
Well there it is, like the wind through both windows, in and out. It’s nice.
Happiness, it’s carried lightly and to everybody.
There was one single thing she found wistfulness for. A smoothed and polished stone that her older brother had given her before leaving for war. It had been engraved with the words, ‘I’ll return for you’ and she believed in it every day until he died. After the funeral, she couldn’t find the stone. It had disappeared along with her brother. Her hope was gone, also.
It was just another broken promise.
What can I say? I did it on a whim. I thought it was a good idea at the time, but somehow it did not come to fruition. I wonder sometimes what I would be like if I had any common sense.
“I already did this one yesterday – this is what happens when you do prompts after midnight,” she said wistfully, but started typing anyway.
It’s been a wistful sort of day. I wish I’d been quicker yesterday.
Wistfully walking down the sidewalk on the foggy, dreary afternoon, felt like I was going to simply drop down dead. How could this have happened to me? There was no way no mistake had been made.
I am wistful today thinking of times past. I am wistfully wishing for a brighter future and a more glorious past. there are butterflies flitting outside my window. starry nights and fire flies. late nights naked in the cool breeze welcome after a hot summer’s day. two bodies lying on a bench warm and soft..
so bin ich denn doch nicht einkaufen gegangen und hab das angebot kirschen fuer 2,9o€ das kilo verpasst. schade eigentlich, ich weiss naemlich, dass die kirschen nicht billiger werden als vier euro und das geld fuer die kirschen vom wochenmarkt zu acht euro hab ich wirklich nich.
wise about life. ahhhhmm. this is interesting as well. wist is wisdom. like noother i’ve seen. this is something new as well. all in 60 seconds of time
It’s tough to be wistful when the immediate hits you with all force. You shudder, you shrivel, you unravel. You fall. You brush off. You rise again.And so is life.
He look out the window at the soggy drizzle lazily falling from the the heaven above the ghostly white clouds. He wondered if he was their, above the haze, looking down at this dank world. God, he missed him. The way he felt. The way he smelt. Everything about him made him ache with longing. Out in the failing mist he could see him. Just out of reach, by the old oak tree where they had first met. He remembered that day. Like another he had taken a stroll after lunch… ‘No, I can’t do this to my self, I must forget’ he pleaded with his memory. He looked out the window at the soggy drizzle lazily falling from the resting place of his past lover. A rain drop falling from his losing eye.
Excuse me if I don’t write something correctly, it is because I am spanish and my first language isn’t the English. Thanks.
I was sitting at my desk at work. Trying to type this message when a wistful thought occured to me of beaches and ocean breezes. Relaxing in the sun and wishing I was there instead of here. If only work at home was everyday.
She is thinking wistfully of her youth and she struggles with the walker she is now ushing. Where did all the time go she sighs a heavy sigh and pushes on. Lonely and thinking of her children and how she doesn’t see them as much as she would like. She understand sof coause they are busy they have lives and children of their own. If she could change one thing it would be more time spent with them and less time worrying about work or cleaning or anything else that seemed so important at the time. It is the making of the memories she misses the most.
Wistful for you, I am
Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?
You’re standing in front of me.
Saying these things.
All of which you know I’ve wanted to hear.
Don’t toy with me now.
There’s too much at stake.
Love you forever, like you for always
Love me back.
She remembers the time she woke up crying from a dream about her childhood. She was six years old again, when work meant running up the slide and love meant smiles and blinks and friendship meant playdates and popsicles, and that was all.
In that melancholy surrounding, I sat there thinking with a wistful gaze, regretting my agenda, wondering why I decided to leave home on such a rainy, dark day.
I already had this word so I eventually know what it means. I think it’s a great feeling because pain is creative, being wistful can lead to be creative, sadness is blessed because it can lead to be creative, my own sadnss I don’t want to escape
that place always made me feel wistful. the past came back and I was still in a time of promise. the wreckage of my life lay ahead. All shall have prizes he said. The lie haunted me through the years of failure and doubt.
My world fell apart.
I’m french and I wanted to try this website but the funny thing is that I don’t know what wistful means, like not at all. It kind of makes me think of the word wrist and so I just imagine two wrists drawn on a blank paper and there are two red/pink bruises on each one.
I wish, for just a moment, to be nine again, and for this summer to be again an endless stretch of possibilities. I wish for my future back — for that belief that I could be anyone or anything I wanted to be. I wish … I wish to be young again, and to know all things are possible. Long before this closing of views and hardening of heart began.
i had this wistful of habits that help me realize that whatever i am doing is not worth it and will have change me up a notch.