Quotes About Emotion

Without music, life would be a mistake.

There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.

It is not flesh and blood, but heart which makes us fathers and sons.

Sorrow is brief but joy is endless

She looked at him. She thought that indeed he might love her, in some way. The love of one human being for another, which does not demand classification or mode.

From the '70s and '80s, the following songs immediately spring to my mind as candidates: "The Battle of Evermore," "Spirit of Eden," "In Memory of Elizabeth Reed," "Close to the Edge," "In Your Eyes," "Thick as a Brick," "Cinema Show," "Echoes," and "The Killing Moon.

There probably are very few perfect tracks—tracks that never grow old and never cease to cause wonder. From the '70s and '80s, the following songs immediately spring to my mind as candidates: "The Battle of Evermore," "Spirit of Eden," "In Memory of Elizabeth Reed," "Close to the Edge," "In Your Eyes," "Thick as a Brick," "Cinema Show," "Echoes," and "The Killing Moon.

You're so much more endearing with the sound turned off.

Floating down a river named Emotion...will I make it back to shore, or drift into the unknown?

the world is a rollercoaster, and i am not strapped i, maybe i should hold with care but my hands are busy in the air

Too bad the things that make you mad are my favorite things.

Can you see the power emotion has to distort out outlook? Makes you wonder, did you have a bad day, or did you make it a bad day?

Verl waved both hands. "No, stop, please, no gift is required. My lady, a soft glance, a kind word, these more than suffice. Your very existence leaves me forever indebted." "You get that I'm fifteen?

That was cool." "You're psychotic.

How are you feeling?" Kendra asked. "Stabbed," he said.

That was cool.' You're psychotic.

She had a way of pouring everything of herself into what she did. When she fought, she was the blade. When she loved, she was the kiss. In that regard, she was far more Ã¢â'¬Â¦ human than any I have known.

You will find that hate can unify people more quickly and more fervently than devotion ever could.

If you could explain something perfectly, then you'd never need art.

Joy was more than just an absence of discomfort.

Words aren't meant to be kept inside, you see. They are free creatures, and if locked away will unsettle the stomach.

The sensation—it's not sorrow, but something deeper—of being broken. Of being crushed so often, and so hatefully, that emotion becomes something you can only wish for. If only you could cry, because then you'd feel something. Instead, you feel nothing. Just . . . haze and smoke inside. Like you're already dead.

He found himself weeping. Not for the future or for the emperor. These were the tears of a man who saw before himself a masterpiece . True art was more than beauty; it was more than technique. It was not just imitation. It was boldness, it was contrast, it was subtlety.

I know what you are," Shallan whispered. "You're the blankness upon my memories. The part of me that looks away. The part of my mind that protects me from my past." "Of course I am," Veil said. "I'm your veil, Shallan.