Quotes About Emotion

I put my arms round his neck. I say, Hello, you. And I snog his fucking face off.

Pot do duše je skozi srce.

You cannot find your soul with your mind, you must use your heart. You must know what you are feeling. If you don't know what you are feeling, you will create unconsciously.

Love is but a fire that is to be transmitted.

Love is never finished expressing itself.

The great function of poetry is to give back to us the situations of our dreams.

We comfort ourselves by reliving memories of protection. Something closed must retain our memories, while leaving them their original value as images. Memories of the outside world will never have the same tonality as those of home and, by recalling these memories, we add to our store of dreams; we are never real historians, but always near poets, and our emotion is perhaps nothing but an expression of a poetry that was lost.

We are never real historians, but always near poets, and our emotion is perhaps nothing but an expression of a poetry that was lost.

What is the source of our first suffering? It lies in the fact that we hesitated to speak....it was born in the moments when we accumulated silent things within us.

To feel most beautifully alive means to be reading something beautiful...

Are people so unhappy when they love?" "Yes, Christine, when they love and are not sure of being loved.

I am not really wicked. Love me, and you will see!

I am going to die of love....daroga....I am dying of love .... That's how it is... I loved her so! And I love her still...daroga.....and I am dying of love for her, I tell you! if you knew how beautiful she was when she let me kiss her...It was the first ...time, daroga, the first time I ever kissed a woman.. Yes, alive... I kissed her alive.... And she looked as beautiful as if she had been dead!

But do you love me? If Erik were good-looking, would you love me, Christine?

The fiercest fire is hatred.

The sharpest sword is a word spoken in wrath.

I held her close for only a short time, but after she was gone, I'd see her smile on the face of a perfect stranger and I knew she would be there with me all the rest of my days.

Living Memory I carry you with me into the world, into the smell of rain & the words that dance between people & for me, it will always be this way, walking in the light, remembering being alive together

Scent: When she wore the hat, even many years later, she could always smell her mother's perfume & it was hard to remember she was supposed to be alone.

The secret is not in your hand or your eye or your voice, my aunt told me once. The secret is in your heart. Of course, she said, knowing that doesn't make it any easier. —Secret Heart

I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand & the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep & there are no words for that.

I saw them standing there pretending to be just friends, when all the time in the world could not pry them apart.

I held her close for only a short time, but after she was gone, I'd see her smile on the face of a perfect stranger and I knew she would be there with me all the rest of my days.

Don't you hear it? She asked & I shook my head no & then she started to dance & suddenly there was music everywhere & it went on for a very long time & when I finally found words all I could say was thank you.