Quotes About Emotion

Poetry is emotion put into measure. The emotion must come by nature, but the measure can be acquired by art.

Intensity was more usually reached by way of the solemn than by way of the brilliant, and such a sort of intensity was often arrived at during

Those who have the power of reproaching in silence may find it a means more effective than words. There are accents in the eye which are not on the tongue, and more tales come from pale lips than can enter an ear.

Some women's love of being loved is insatiable ; and so, often, is their love of loving; and in the last case they may find that they can't give it continuously to the chamber-officer appointed by the bishop's licence to receive it.

A young woman's face will turn the north wind, Master Richard: my heart if 'twon't

The Wound I climbed to the crest, And, fog-festooned, The sun lay west Like a crimson wound: Like that wound of mine Of which none knew, For I'd given no sign That it pierced me through.

She thought, without exactly wording the thought, how strange and godlike was a composer's power, who from the grave could lead through sequences of emotion, which he alone had felt at first, a girl like her who had never heard of his name, and never would have a clue to his personality.

The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings—illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was.

You know what that feeling is, continued Boldwood, deliberately. A thing strong as death. No dismissal by a hasty letter affects that.

Perfect, he, as a lover, might have called them off-hand. But no – they were not perfect. and it was the touch of the imperfect upon the would-be perfect that gave the sweetness, because it was that which gave the humanity.

Credevo, Angel, che tu mi amassi... amassi me, per quello che sono. Se sono io che tu ami, come puoi guardarmi e parlare così? Tutto ciò mi fa paura! Ho cominciato ad amarti e ti amo, ti amerò per sempre... qualsiasi disgrazia dovesse accadere, qualsiasi cambiamento, perché tu sei proprio tu; non chiedo altro. E allora tu, che sei mio marito, come puoi cessare d'amarmi?»

There was not a human soul near. Sad October and her saddest self seemed the only two existences haunting that lane.

His equilibrium disturbed, he was in extremity at once. If an emotion possessed him at all, it ruled him; a feeling not mastering him was entirely latent. Stagnant or rapid, it was never slow. He was always hit mortally, or he was missed.

she, and Clare also, stood as yet on the debatable land between predilection and love; where no profundities have been reached; no reflections have set in, awkwardly inquiring, 'Whither does this new current tend to carry me? What does it mean to my future? How does it stand towards my past?

And, dear miss, you won't harry me and storm at me, will you? because you seem to swell so tall as a lion then, and it frightens me! Do you know, I fancy you would be a match for any man when you are in one o' your takings.

Esta mujer significa mucho más para mí, incluso muerta, de lo que tú hayas significado, signifiques o puedas significar.

His affection itself was less fire than radiance, and, with regard to the other sex, when he ceased to believe he ceased to follow: contrasting in this with many impressionable natures, who remain sensuously infatuated with what they intellectually despise.

The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing Alive enough to have strength to die;

Tess Durbeyfield at this time of her life was a mere vessel of emotion untinctured by experience.

Tess Durberyfield at this time of her life was a mere vessel of emotion untinctured by experience

Material causes and emotional effects are not to be arranged in regular equation.

Though not cold-natured, he was rather bright than hot – less Byronic than Shelleyan; could love desperately, but his love more especially inclined to the imaginative and ethereal.

She became more or less red in the cheek, the blood wavering in uncertain flux and reflux over the sensitive space between ebb and flood. Gabriel sheared on, constrained and sad.

He won't hurt me. HE'S not in love with me.