Quotes About Emotion

How far would you run with a piece of lead in your heart?

She won't give him back his look.

I love you, Bro

But he understood it was over, and he felt able to let her go. He was sure their life together had happened in the way he said it had. But it was something that had passed. And that passing--though it seemed impossible and he'd fought against it--would become part of him now, too, as surely as anything else he'd left behind.

Physical love, that impulse that drives you to someone special, as well as love of the other person's being, his or her essence, as it were. Carnal love and, well, call it sentimental love, the day-to-day caring about the other person.

All this, all of this love we're talking about, it would just be a memory. Maybe not even a memory

a boy and girl in love, burning with it.

He ran his fingers through my hair. He did it slowly, as if thinking about something else. He ran his fingers through my hair. He did it tenderly, as a lover would.

Then i don't know I remembered how he was when he was nineteen, the way he looked, running across this field to where his dad sat on a tractor, hand over his eyes, watching Wes run toward him - Chef's House

Però ha certi occhi, disse Bonnie. Che hanno gli occhi? Sono tristi. Gli occhi più tristi che abbia mai visto in un uomo.

Nick e Joanne guardavano l'incendio tenendosi stretti, ma mentre lei gli accarezzava distrattamente una spalla, Nick fu assalito dalla sensazione familiare, che ogni tanto lo attanagliava, di non sapere bene a cosa lei stesse pensando.

I had a funny feeling as I saw the house disappear, as though I had written a poem and it was very good and I had lost it and would never remember it again.

The wet air was as cold as the ashes of love.

There are two kinds of truth; The truth that lights the way and the truth that warms the heart. The first of these is science and the second is art.

The most durable thing in writing is style. It is a projection of personality and you have to have a personality before you can project it. It is the product of emotion and perception.

Then she laughed. It was almost a racking laugh. It shook her as the wind shakes a tree. I thought there was puzzlement in it, not exactly surprise, but as if a new idea had been added to something already known and it didn't fit. Then I thought that was too much to get out of a laugh.

Thick cunning played on her face, had no fun there and went somewhere else.

Her voice froze on the second word, like a feather taking off in a sudden draft. Then it cooed and hovered and soared and eddied and the silent invitation of a smile picked delicately at the corners of her lips, very slowly, like a child trying to pick up a snowflake.

Preoccupation with style will not produce it. No amount of editing and polishing will have any appreciable effect on the flavor of how a man writes. It is a product of the quality of his emotion and perception; it is the ability to transfer these to paper which makes him a writer, in contrast to the great number of people who have just as good emotions and just as keen perceptions, but cannot come within a googol of miles of putting them on paper.

My God, you big dark handsome brute! I ought to throw a Buick at you.

Her voice was as dead as the summer before last. (Nevada Gas)

We were very much in love—the wild, mysterious, improbable kind of love that never comes but once.

You mean something happened to him?" Her voice faded off into sort of a sad whisper, like a mortician asking for a down payment.

Javonen smiled - very slightly. Call it a down payment on a smile.