Quotes about Emotional Resonance

The love between a writer and a reader is never celebrated.

Bach for minor crises. Mozart for major ones.

The memory of it comes to me like a blow to the face, the way all true memories do, unasked for, unwelcome, a full-body possession.

They're just words. And words alone don't really mean anything. It's what you feel and what you believe when you say them that matter.

There are a few people who will feel her touch—a chill up a spine, a hand in the air, a poem recalled—even if they won't exactly know it.

We transmit and catch moods from each other in what amounts to a subterranean economy of the psyche in which some encounters are toxic, some nourishing.

We catch feelings from one another as though they were some kind of social virus.

I can see it, Ed, I leaned deeper into you, felt you nodding along with the sounds in the room, and your warmth signaled through to me from under your shirt, lovely strong, safe and right.

Nu te gândi la muzic?.Trebuie doar s? o simÈ›i .Las-o s? se scurg? peste tine ca apa m?rii,fara a încerca s? o înÈ›elegi .

Because when I look at you, I can feel it. And I look at you and I'm home.

When the sparrow sings its final refrain, the hush is felt nowhere more deeply than in the heart of man.

I like singer-songwriters, and I find sad songs comforting rather than depressing. It makes you realise you're not alone in the world.

That's the amazing thing about music: there's a song for every emotion. Can you imagine a world with no music? It would suck.

Words can be said in bitterness and anger, and often there seems to be an element of truth in the nastiness. And words don't go away, they just echo around.

The past and present rose side by side, at that supreme moment — and the contrast shook me.

Without Puccini, there is no opera; without opera, the world is an even drearier place than the evening news would have us think.

The wounded, the incomplete, the unbalanced, the malfunctioning, the ill seek each other out: like attracted to like.

Music hath charms to sooth a savage breast.

It's a comfortable thing, music is.

Are you - are you sad? - No. But your - your songs are sad. - My songs are of time and distance. The sadness is in you. Watch my arms. There is only the dance. These things you treasure are shells.

Are you—are you sad?" —No. "But your—your songs are sad." —My songs are of time and distance. The sadness is in you. Watch my arms. There is only the dance. These things you treasure are shells. "I—I knew that. Once.

My songs are of time and distance. The sadness is in you.

I understand everything," he said. "You understand nothing, but it really doesn't matter, since what you mean is, you're glad to see me, just as I'm glad to see you because no more loneliness." "That's what I mean," said Fezzik.

What they realized was that they didn't need their colleagues to understand something, they needed them to feel something.