Quotes About Emotion

If you'd just fight like you fuck, you'd've walked out of this room the day I carried you in.

When he kisses me again, the last part of me that could stand myself dies.

Sex either blows your fucking mind, or it's not good enough.

All my life, up until that moment, I'd had a warm, protective blanket wrapped around me, knitted of aunts and uncles, purled of first and second and third cousins, knot-tied with grandmas and grandpas and greats. That blanket had just dropped from my shoulders. I felt cold, lost and alone.

Have you ever had one of those moments when time just freezes? You know, when the world suddenly goes deathly still, and you could hear a pin drop, and the squishing sound your heart makes is so loud in your ears you feel like youre drowning in blood, and you stand there in that suspended moment and die a thousand deaths, but not really, and the moment passes and dumps you out on the other side of it, with your mouth hanging open, and an erased blackboard where your mind used to be?

I know that when he has sex he laughs like the world is a perfect place. And when he did that, my hands curled into fists because I thought about touching his face like maybe I could catch joy in my hands and hold it.

He makes a pained sound. "Bloody hell, woman, I think a part of me wants to keep you this way.

Silver eyes met hers and locked. "I didn't like Dani." "At least you're consistent," she said coolly. His silver eyes were ice. "I loved her.

I would wear pink because I knew my future was anything but rosy. I would accessorize myself to the hilt, and I would wear flirty shoes because my world needed more beauty to counter all the ugliness in it. I would wear pink because I hated gray, I didn't deserve white, and I was sick of black.

If only [love] could be turned off. It's not a faucet. Love's a bloody river with level-five rapids. Only a catastrophic act of nature or a dam has any chance of stopping it- and then only succeeds in diverting it. Both measures are extreme and change the terrain so much you end up wondering why you bothered. No landmarks to gauge your position when it's done. Only way to survive is to devise new ways to map out life.

Goor or evil, right or wrong, he mattered to me.

I'm obsessed and addicted and ripped-down-raw in love with Jericho Barrons.

Driving a hot car is a lot like sex to me, or a lot like I keep thinking sex should be: A total body experience, overwhelming, to all the senses, taking you places you've never been, packing a punch that leaves you breathless and touches your soul. The Viper was way more satisfying then my last boyfriend.

She's my baby girl, Quinn. I want love for her. Real love. The kind that makes a man crazy inside. -Gibraltar to Quinn

Like is an emotion. Emotions"—he raised a hand, made a fist, clenched it tightly—"are like holding water. You open your hand, there's nothing there. Better to be a weapon than a woman.

Your feet will bring you to where your heart is.

An ait a bhfuil do chroi is ann a thabharfas do chosa thu.(your feet will bring you to where your heart is.)

I whirled and locked gazes with him, shucked my pride, doffed my prickly alpha stubbornness and said, You are my world, Jericho Barrons. Not him. Never him.

My heart has jet lag.

I was stunned to see that he looked stunned himself, which was an exorbitant display of emotion for Barrons.

Oooh! Stop that. When you smile at me I want all of it." "What?" He looked confused

He's happy, Yi-yi." I went very still. "He, who?" "The one who danced you into love.

Her absence in my life was so painful that it was a presence.

He didn't just kiss, he claimed ownership. Took her mouth with urgency, as if his life depended on his kissing her.