Quotes About Emotion

Come sleep with me: We won't make Love, Love will make us.

Lo que mucha gente llama amar consiste en elegir una mujer y casarse con ella. La eligen, te lo juro, los he visto. Como si se pudiera elegir en el amor, como si no fuera un rayo que te parte los huesos y te deja estaqueado en la mitad del patio. Vos dirás que la eligen porque-la-aman, yo creo que es al vesre. A Beatriz no se la elige, a Julieta no se la elige. Vos no elegís la lluvia que te va a calar hasta los huesos cuando salís de un concierto.

Creo que no te quiero, que solamente quiero la imposibilidad tan obvia de quererte. Como el guante izquierdo enamorado de la mano derecha.

Música! Melancólico alimento para los que vivimos de amor.

Regalos insignificantes como un beso en un momento inesperado o un papel escrito a las apuradas. Pueden ser valorados más que una joya.

soy sumamente sensible a la discontinuidad vertiginosa de la existencia.

Come sleep with me: We won't make Love,Love will make us.

Sometimes, you think you have forgotten everything, that the rust and dust of the years have destroyed all the things we once entrusted to their voracious appetite. But all it takes is a noise, a smell, a sudden, unexpected touch, and suddenly the alluvion of time sweeps pitilessly over us, and our memories light up with all the brilliance and fury of a lightning flash

A veces, uno cree que todo lo ha olvidado, que el óxido y el polvo de los años han destruido ya completamente lo que, a su voracidad, un día confiamos. Pero basta un sonido, un olor, un tacto repentino e inesperado, para que, de repente, el aluvión del tiempo caiga sin compasión sobre nosotros y la memoria se ilumine con el brillo y la rabia de un relámpago. Aquella noche, además, el recuerdo estaba aún en carne viva.

Pero la vida lo complica todo. La vida y nosotros mismos, que en seguida relegamos y olvidamos a las personas a las que más queremos en favor de otras menos importantes. Luego nos arrepentimos.

A veces, uno cree que todo lo ha olvidado, que el óxido y el polvo de los años han destruido ya completamente lo que, a su voracidad, un día confiamos. Pero basta un sonido, un olor, un tacto repentino e inesperado, para que, de repente, el aluvión del tiempo caiga sin compasión sobre nosotros y la memoria se ilumine con el brillo y la rabia de un relámpago.

Just because she's dead it doesn't mean I stopped loving her or that she stopped loving me. It's just her body that left. The love didn't. —Jenna Richards

It ain't how long you know somebody that means anything. It's what that person mean to you in your heart.

We remember with our emotions. The things that were important in our emotional life, that's what we remember.

There was an end to weeping. Mourning, however, ebbed and surged but never ceased flowing.

He took the box but did not avail himself of a tissue. She understood. Sometimes it was comforting to feel the wetness of grief's tears on your face.

We got married in a fever hotter than a pepper sprout.

These poems they are things I do in the dark reaching for you whoever you are from "These Poems

I try to use words, whether in prose or poetry, that people can understand, that make them feel in an intense way. I'm a writer, that's what I do.

Love is like a violin. The music may stop now and then, but the strings remain forever.

If you have love, even plain cold water is sweet.

The ancients waited for cherry blossoms, grieved when they were gone, and lamented their passing in countless poems. How very ordinary the poems had seemed to Sachiko when she read them as a girl, but now she knew, as well as one could know, that grieving over fallen cherry blossoms was more than a fad or convention.

Out of nowhere you said, I love you. For whatever it's worth.

and when he thought about the way she laughed, as though she owned the air around her, his heart thundered inside his chest, a lonely rada.