Quotes About Emotion

Fond and protective equals love? I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

To Tess's immeasurable disappointment, she woke up.

I was inclined to leave love unspoken.

What was rage but a cover for some secret fragility, some sorrow?

He smiled sadly, then placed his hand around mine so we were holding the book together. "I believe that - with everything I have," he said, holding my gaze. He kissed the edge of the book because he could not kiss me.

Love is not a disease.

For me, art is the desire to preserve the intangible feeling of such a moment, hidden in all the littlest details, and then to communicate that to others.

This clod is like my heart I smash it all apart I had one goal, to keep it whole But that's beyond my art

Experiencing nothingness had left her feeling unexpectedly full.

When the rest of the mind has fled, sometimes there's music left.

Crisis first, love later.

He chuckled into my hair, enjoying this. I loved him terribly just then, how he puzzled through obscure scholarship and reveled in ideas, never mind that he'd called my mind hell.

Everything beautiful felt like a fist clamped around Tess's heart, squeezing.

of love. Yes, that was it: he thought I meant to proposition

I didn't want this dance to end, or Kiggs to let go of my hand. I didn't want him to turn his eyes away, or live any other moment than this one.

Percival pinched his lips, sending his laugh to his eyes.

Did she feel what he felt? Something old. Something new. already he wanted more. Not just a kiss, though he'd invite her lips to his anytime, but he wanted the woman beneath the kiss

Love isn't love just because someone receives it or reciprocates," Coral said. "Loving someone who doesn't love you in return is perhaps the greatest kind of love. Sacrificial. Without demand or condition.

If you didn't miss where you've been, it didn't mean that much to you.

Funny thing about love, real love—it filled every soul with courage.

He'd not confess it out loud, but that Family fairy tale had shaped his heart of love.

In all cases love was a strong emotion, not easily contained once it was unleashed. I realized now that love was like a blossoming flower that continually added more and more petals. But there was no end point. There was no full bloom. It went on forever. Growing, strengthening.

Love is strange. It has no rhyme or reason. It simply is.

And his kiss wasn't at all like his smile. It wasn't crooked or one-sided. It was quite simply... perfect.