Quotes About Emotion

I had hated him, but I wouldn't have reproached him, any more than I would have reproached a bolt of lightning for striking my house. He wasn't a person . . .

What perfectly sensible advice. It sat in my stomach, an indigestible lump.

But I couldn't just be angry at her. Obviously I wanted to scream at her and set her whole enclave on fire, but that was just habit.

Also I hadn't lost an ounce of the passionate desire to beat him over the head with a large stick, and surely that was a sign of true love.

I glared down. Do you want me to go? His hands tightened on my arms. He didn't look me in the face. For a moment he didn't speak. Then harshly he said, No.

I felt argument coiling in my belly.

El, I love you so much.

No, my dear," he said at last, softly, knowing it was only the truth. "I would rather have you than any ship in the Navy.

You intolerable lunatic," he snarled at me, and then he caught my face between his hands and kissed me.

Her beautiful face was blank as an unwritten book.

Angry, I think. I didn't remember ever being angry before. Anger had always seemed pointless to me, a dog circling after its own tail.

How did you," he said, pushing himself up on an elbow, indignation finally dawning, and I pushed him back down and kissed him.

Laurence did not let anger go, but dismissed it to return later; the battle was not over.

I'm sorry, I said, feeling stupid in the way I'm sorry always feel stupid when you mean it.

It made me angry, because being angry was better than being afraid.

Don't make mournful faces at me," he added.

He began to weep and make protests, but I didn't have the strength to

And I wasn't old enough to be wise, so I loved her more, not less

I knew that no matter what there would be no mercy to it, no kindness allowed. You couldn't return a kindness after you were dead.

Happiness was bubbling up through me, a bright stream laughing.

My anger's a bad guest, my mother likes to say: comes without warning and stays a long time.

Because Ali did not want to see the deep pools of his kind teacher's eyes and fall into them. He didn't know how to swim.

the long sorrow of the color red.

Only in words on a page can it still be yesterday.