Quotes About Emotion

L'ansia è la ruggine dell'anima.

Hay peores cárceles que las palabras…

Nel momento in cui ti soffermi a pensare se ami o meno una persona, hai già la risposta

Alguien dijo una vez que en el momento en que te paras a pensar si quieres a alguien, ya has dejado de quererle para siempre—dije. Bea buscó

I prefer you like this, when you're in a foul mood, because you tell the truth.

Invadiu-me o desejo quase doloroso de beijar aquela mulher,uma ânsia como nunca tinha experimentado...

Dimmi che mi sbaglio e me ne vado subito. Lo ami? Ci fissammo a lungo, senza parlare. Non lo so. sussurrò alla fine. Non lo so. Qualcuno ha detto che nel momento in cui ti soffermi a pensare se ami o meno una persona, hai già la risposta. affermai.

Cada livro, cada volume que vês, tem uma alma. A alma de quem o escreveu, e as almas daqueles que o leram e viveram e sonharam com ele. Cada vez que um livro muda de mãos, cada vez que alguém passa o olhar pelas suas páginas, o seu espírito cresce e torna-se mais forte.

Sólo se quiere una vez en la vida, Julián, aunque uno no se dé cuenta

Te quiero - dije - Ya lo sé. Nos quedamos allí cogidos de la mano, viendo cómo un alud apabullante de nubarrones carmesíes encapotaba los cielos, y lloré, sintiéndome feliz al fin.

Recuérdame, aunque sea en un rincón y a escondidas. No me dejes ir

His soul is in his stories.

She wore an ivory-white dress and held the world in her eyes. I barely remember the priest's words or the faces of the guests, full of hope, who filled the church on that March morning. All that remains in my memory is the touch of her lips and, when I half opened my eyes, the secret oath I carried with me and would remember all the days of my life.

Viviamo nel ricordo di chi ci ama

sighed and put her fingers in his palm. "For

Jo sí que sabia, amb tota certesa, que l'única finalitat del nostre amor era, senzillament, l'amor

Somewhere on the other side of this wide night and the distance between us, I am thinking of you. The room is turning slowly away from the moon. This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear. La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine the dark hills I would have to cross to reach you. For I am in love with you and this is what it is like or what it is like in words.

You have me like a drawing, erased, coloured in, untitled, signed by your tongue.

Words, words were truly alive on the tongue, in the head, warm, beating, frantic, winged; music and blood.

Poetry, above all, is a series of intense moments - its power is not in narrative. I'm not dealing with facts, I'm dealing with emotion.

I shall love my kind of love anyway, doggedly, for I must certainly do the best I can with my own nature and if my nature is to love too well or from afar or to be grateful for crumbs...well, so be it.

She tips back her head and howls: Moooooown! Oh wonderful moooooowwwwwyyyn!

His voice, you might say, became the place where he lived, the way other people live in their furniture or gestures

A childhood is what anyone wants to remember of it.  It leaves behind no fossils, except perhaps in fiction.