Quotes About Emotion

He put his hand on my waist, and my heart began to pound, a rougher rhythm than the music. I held my skirt. Our free hands met. His felt warm and comforting and unsettling and bewildering--all at once.

The warmth in his eyes flared to heat and he captured her hand in both of his, bending over it to hold his lips against the back a long moment. He did not exactly kiss it so much as breathe her in. She feared her hand smelled of bacon, but he didn't seem to care.

The person in the song is really addressing a powerful and constant state of yearning more than he is any real lover. It's the state of this yearning that torments him, yet he also loves his torment. He needs it. Because he understands that being able to feel this yearning so exquisitely is his secret strength.

And he would not see that the tints which he spread upon the canvas were drawn from the cheeks of her who sat beside him." Poe

Revenge never heals what's broken.

Grief was an opponent he would never be able to defeat.

It is difficult suddenly to lay aside a long-cherished love.

But you shall not escape my iambics.

What a woman says to her ardent lover should be written in wind and running water.

Whatever it is, wherever he is, whatever he is doing, he smiles: it is a malady he has, neither an elegant one as I think, nor in good taste.

Gaius Valerius Catullus

Poor Catullus, you should cease your folly.

Not unknown am I to the goddess [Venus] who mingles with her cares a sweet bitterness.

Odi et amo. Quare I'd faciam, fortasse requiris.

Difficile est longum subito deponere amorem, difficile est, verum hoc qua lubet efficias.

was Lilah, well, that was almost too

There are two versions to every poem – the crying version and the straight version

When love is your greatest weakness, you will be the strongest person in the world.

Being the great love doesn't mean being the love who lasts.

What else is a poem about? The rhythm and the images buried in the language. All the ways you can build an emotion with words, but you can't just write 'I feel sad.' I mean, you can, but it's not poetry... I think it has to be experienced instead of studied. You step into it.

With his pinned-back ears and face suffused with strong, hard-to-read feelings, Bowie looked sleek and dangerous briefly, belying the neatness, the pampered hands.

Touchstone watched, suddenly conscious that he probably only had five seconds left to be alone with Sabriel, to say something, to say anything. Perhaps the last five seconds they ever would have alone together. I am not afraid, he said to himself. "I love you," he whispered. "I hope you don't mind.

I love you," he whispered. "I hope you don't mind.

My intent, here, is to tell our story in a dramatically truthful way. While the facts may be less than accurate, please understand that the emotion is true. The intent is true. And, dramatically speaking, intention is everything.