Quotes About Emotion

Anger made a better warrior than fear.

Franca smiled to herself for a time before she spoke. "My heart belongs to someone.

Wizard's Third Rule: Passion rules reason.

Their words can sound good—almost make sense—if you don't think, if you just feel. Truth doesn't seem to count for much

It is clear to me right this minute that regret is just a wasted emotion.

A GRUDGE IS A HEAVY THING TO CARRY.

The only appropriate state of mind is surprise. The only appropriate state of heart is joy.

Joy is to fun what the deep sea is to a puddle. It's a feeling inside that can hardly be contained.

IT'S THE EXPRESSION ON THEIR LITTLE FACES I LIKE, said the Hogfather. You mean sort of fear and awe and not knowing whether to laugh or cry or wet their pants? YES. NOW THAT IS WHAT I CALL BELIEF.

But that was just it - hate was exactly the right word. Hate is a force of attraction. Hate is just love with its back turned.

Om began to feel the acute depression that steals over every realist in the presence of an optimist.

I MAY HAVE ALLOWED MYSELF SOME FLICKER OF EMOTION IN THE RECENT PAST, said Death, BUT I CAN GIVE IT UP ANY TIME I LIKE.

Occasionally he would very nearly swear.

You can't inspire people with facts. They need a cause. They need a symbol.

Oh, well...up until now it had been a good day, in a horrible kind of way.

Between every rational moment were a billion irrational ones.

Goodbye," Mort said, and was surprised to find a lump in his throat. "It's such an unpleasant word, isn't it?" QUITE SO. Death grinned because, as has so often been remarked, he didn't have much option. But possibly he meant it, this time. I PREFER AU REVOIR, he said.

OH. DRAMA. Oh, hell.

The purr is very important. It's the purr that does it every time. It's the purr that makes up for the Things Under the Bed, the occasional pungency, the 4 a.m. yowl. Other creatures went in for big teeth, long legs or over-active brains, while cats just settled for a noise that tells the world they're feeling happy.

anger was better than fear. Fear was a damp cold mess, but anger had an edge. She could use it.

The period of time it takes a pictsie to go from normal to mad fighting mood is so tiny it can't be measured on the smallest clock.

Grief dares us to love once more.

Sorrow has a voice. It is the cold scream of silence turned inward.

The only space I see truly capable of being closed is not the land or our civil liberties but our own hearts.