Quotes About Emotion

I'd have given him a gift, only to snatch it away again, and counter to mainstream cliché, for some of us it's kinder to never have a thing at all than to have it and lose it. Some of us love too hard. Some of us don't seem to be able to hold that vital piece of ourselves back.

It irritated him that she wouldn't turn about and look at him; it was the least she could do while they said nasty things to each other.

Strong enough that I was no longer afraid to be gentle. Powerful enough that I could be vulnerable. Scarred enough that I could understand and

She scowled as the possibility occurred to her that she'd actually made herself ill merely by planning to pretend she was.

Hi Mega. "Hi Dancer," I whispered. I love you. "I love you, too.

You were something to see, he didn't say. You were something to feel, I didn't reply.

Once, long ago on her world, a sunny day in spring was her favorite, but now a sunny day in winter delights her more. It is the perfect metaphor for their love. Sunshine on ice. She warms his frost. He cools her fever.

Fools and the dead are not governed by logic. Survivors are.

Gwen started to speak, but he laid a finger to her lips. "Please, lass, just kiss me. No more words. There have been enough of them between us." He paused before adding quietly, "If you have aught to say to me, let your heart speak now.

Her eyes are different. Wary, guarded, tinged with that human emotion I despise the most: regret.

Fear is more than a wasted emotion. It's the penultimate set of blinders. If you can't face the truth of your reality, you can't be a part of it, can't control it. You may as well throw in the towel and yield to the whims of anyone with a stronger will.

The only question of any significant emotive content is: can you live without it?

He loved. He could lose.

heart had reasons of which reason knew nothing, the only quote of Pascal's

Sympathy isn't quite as bad. Sympathy says, I know how it feels, doesn't it just suck? Pity means they think you're defeated

My tears were involuntary. My soul was leaking.

he looked like the kind of creep that would line her up in the sights of an assassin's rifle without a shred of emotion.

He swapped the fistful of my shirt for one in my hair, and ground his mouth against mine.

He closed his fingers around hers before she might snatch it away. Her wee hand was nearly swallowed by his. It meant more to him than kisses. More even than bedplay. When women sought him for sex, it was for their pleasure. But Chloe's small hand had been given without taking.

Does she, like most women, lose a part of her soul in sex?

I just wished she'd stop forgetting me. Like she didn't want to remember me. Or maybe she wished she'd never had me.

Don't confuse intensity of emotion with quality of emotion, baby, when I'd gotten tangled up with class heartbreaker Tommy Ralston. The more he'd hit on my girlfriends, the harder I'd worked to keep him. It was like I was addicted to whatever made me feel most intensely, even though it was hurting me. Pain is not love, Mac. Love makes you feel good.

I don't like your attitude." "My attitude?" he echoed dumbly. "So get thee from my bed and from my sight and speak no more to me this night.

Sex. Hunger. Rage. Hunger. Sex. Hunger. Rage. Hunger.